


bruise you like a peach

by falsegoodnight



Series: peach [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BDSM, Dom Harry, Dom/sub, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Hate to Love, Jealous Harry, M/M, Minor Angst, Porn With Plot, Safeword Use, Sub Louis, because duh, blackmailing, full smut tags in notes, it's minor!, lots of smut, not like cmbyn, sigh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 40,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight
Summary: There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit morefocusedin a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.His name is Louis Tomlinson.-Alternatively titled'the peach fic.'
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: peach [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902613
Comments: 188
Kudos: 1345





	bruise you like a peach

**Author's Note:**

> smut tags: top/dom harry, bottom/sub louis, masturbation, sex toys (fleshlight(s)), anal sex, anal fingering, rimming, face fucking, handjobs, finger sucking, wall sex, cockwarming, choking, breathplay, bondage, spanking, subspace, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, unsafe sex/bareback, and slight degradation (use of the word slut/whore)… If I forgot anything, let me know!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: there is a scene where a safeword is used in this fic so bear that in mind!
> 
> I’ve got quite a lot of people to thank for this fic. It takes a village to raise a child and it took a village to raise this fic. 
> 
> The idea was developed in an extremely spontaneous conversation about fic ideas I had with the amazingly talented [Emily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttfucklarry/pseuds/buttfucklarry). She helped me come up with the idea for this fic in about twenty minutes when we were just talking about random fic ideas and then proceeded to be so supportive and encouraging through the whole process.
> 
> Thank you to (Saint) [Sarah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz) for editing this work and for being supportive and amazing and letting me scream about this fic in the middle of the night! Thank you to Chelsea for also looking it over and catching errors that me and Sarah missed because we’re both sleep deprived and exhausted! And thank you to everyone on twitter for helping me pick a name for Harry’s blog! The poll was close but it ultimately settled on [Hayley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeriestyles/pseuds/faeriestyles)’s suggestion!! Also thank you Hayley for helping me with that one scene I was struggling with!! 
> 
> A big shoutout and thank you to [Fer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddyharrie/pseuds/daddyharrie) for advocating so faithfully for the inclusion of fleshlights in fics!
> 
> My final thank you goes out to everyone else on Twitter who’s read the original cc prompts when I was still playing around with the concept, voted in the polls, encouraged/hyped me up, and suggested title ideas (the final title was suggested by [Jess](https://twitter.com/PB_n_Jessie), thank you!) I can’t name everyone but special thanks to Mindy, Klar, Chelsea, Jem, and Alex for being so sweet and lovely to me all the time!
> 
> So anyways, enjoy!
> 
> (Happy Birthday Lisa!!)

-

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ. 

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. He’s a psych major- he doesn’t give a shit about utilities and scarcity or whatever else their prof drones about at one in the afternoon while ignoring the blank looks of confusion on literally everyone’s faces. He doesn’t take or answer questions, doesn’t explain things in depth, and he’s practically married to the concept of pop quizzes. Harry dreads having to walk into the classroom everyday, his good mood from lunch always disappearing the moment he steps in. 

The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more _focused_ in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person. 

His name is Louis Tomlinson. 

And he’s the bane of Harry’s existence, the most insufferable, obnoxious, _brattiest_ person Harry has ever met. It’s really fucking unfair and tragic, Harry maintains, that he’s also arguably the prettiest boy he’s ever seen. 

Petite and slim with honey tan skin, delicate features, soft golden brown hair, and the most gorgeous eyes Harry has seen on anyone, blue and big and layered. It doesn’t help that they’re framed by sinfully long eyelashes. 

And his _lips_ , holy shit. Pink and smooth and often covered in a layer of gloss. Harry’s fascinated by his lips, well, that is… until they open and Louis starts talking. 

Then all that infatuation easily surges into irritation. Harry didn’t know being that annoying was even possible, and yet Louis exists. 

Worse, he makes it a point to sit close to Harry as much as possible, never more than a few seats away. Always talking loudly to his quieter friend, Zayn, or clicking his pen obnoxiously, or laughing distractingly. 

And that’s just him when he’s being _normal._

When he and Harry are partnered up (which happens way too much thanks to their alphabetically adjacent names), he becomes even more of a brat. Always arguing or fighting Harry’s suggestions or causing unnecessary complications and insulting Harry as much as he can. God, Harry hates him. 

He mostly tends to stay quiet and unbothered in class. He’s an outgoing person by nature but he’s also driven academically and he’d like to be able to take notes and finish assignments and projects in peace, except Louis seems to make it his personal mission to prevent that from happening… Every. Single. Time. 

The exact start of this tension between them is unknowable but Harry can trace it back to the beginning of the school year when Harry asked Louis for a pen and Louis informed him that he should be better prepared for a college class and how they _weren’t in secondary school any longer._

He was a brat from the very beginning and it’s only gotten worse. 

Like today when Harry’s trying to listen to the lecture, gritting his teeth when Louis decides to laugh obnoxiously loud. 

It’s honestly baffling that he seems to be the only one this irritated. Don’t get him wrong, there’s plenty of people around him who roll their eyes or sigh exasperatedly when Louis does something particularly infuriating, but for the most part they just endure it, endure _Louis._

Harry on the other hand, has no tolerance for him. Everything he says grates on his nerves like nails dragging down a chalkboard. Just looking at him makes his body tense and lips curl into a scowl. 

He hates how much power Louis has over him in this way. He’s a pretty easygoing guy for the most part, always calm and some might even say _stoic_. He never lets people like Louis get to him, normally lets them wash right over him and stays unbothered. But for some reason, Louis has lodged himself into his mind like an eternal distraction even when all he wants to do is _ignore_. 

And he’s not really exaggerating when he says he’d pretty much do _anything_ to get it to stop. 

As if on cue, Louis laughs loudly again, bright sound blazing through his flimsy concentration. He groans internally, squeezing his eyes shut again. There goes any hopes of him retaining the information from this lecture, he muses sarcastically. 

He really fucking hates Econ. 

-

Harry groans, tightening his grip on the clear oral fleshlight as he thrusts up steadily. His eyes are closed so if he zones out enough, the textured insides feel just velvety enough to imitate a tight, warm mouth and throat. 

Hips bucking up forcefully, he slows down enough. He wants this video to be more drawn out and sensual, like he’s truly fucking someone’s mouth and driving them to the edge. The visuals will be nice too since this particular fleshlight of his is _clear_ which means viewers can see the rough glide of his leaking cock slide in and out without anything in between. 

It’s also the least realistic in terms of appearance but he doesn’t quite mind that part. All that’s important is that it _feels_ right, and it most certainly does. 

As he shoves his cock deeper and deeper into the cocksleeve, digging his fingers into the plastic casing, it feels like he’s deep-throating a nice warm little mouth. 

He opens his eyes when he feels his release building, checking on the camera he has propped on his nightstand and angled deliberately so it captures a shot of his abs to his thighs and nothing else. It’s still in its spot thank god- once Harry accidentally jostled it when he was rutting against the mattress for a different video, headboard bouncing against the wall and knocking into the nightstand which ultimately led to him getting a ten minute clip of his side profile, teeth clamped into a pillow. 

Moving the toy up and down his length to mimic the feel of someone going down on him, he finally comes, hips bucking and stomach muscles contracting. He may oversell it a bit, groaning and pulling the sleeve off so he can show his shiny wet cock to the camera, still big even when soft. 

It’s not arrogant so much as honest. 

When he feels like he’s got enough footage, he stops the filming and slumps back against his pillow, sighing. Tumblr has a five minute limit for videos so he had stroked himself to full hardness and just played around a bit before actually turning on the camera. What he’s left with is four minutes and twenty-seven seconds of him getting off, enhanced by the hazy lighting and intentional angle. It’ll take a couple hours to edit which he’ll probably do later at night which means he’ll have it ready to schedule for posting in the next couple of days. 

Harry started his blog, clicktosubmit, when he was nineteen, so it’s been just over a year ago now. He’s always been interested in the dom and sub dynamic since he first got into porn and discovered the world of BDSM as a curious fifteen year old. Through his watching, he began to realize that he was into that sort of thing- into _domming._

From then on he spiraled into a whole new world and community he never expected to find himself in. 

Clicktosubmit is a comparatively well-established dom-centered blog focused on giving advice, tips, and answering questions from people with similar preferences as him, people who have that urge to demand control in the bedroom and take care of their partner in often extreme and not widely accepted ways. 

He also posts videos like the one he just filmed- short clips of him jerking off, rutting into mattresses and pillows, or fucking fleshlights along with the occasional nude or soft porn photo. Sometimes he takes requests but mostly he just does what he wants. It’s not charged or anything, but plenty of his followers donate (some of them especially generously) to his Ko-Fi which is nice considering his stint as a barista just off campus only pays so much. 

But to be honest, Harry would do it even for no money. He _enjoys_ it, enjoys creating content and running his blog and interacting and _helping_ people. 

None of them know his identity of course, but it feels like they do know him, a raw and intense part of him that he only shares with partners he’s intimate with and people with similar desires and likes on the internet. 

And while he’s not ashamed of anything he does - in fact, he’s quite proud of it - it’s still something he doesn’t share with anyone in real life, friend and family or not. He keeps it tucked up next to his heart, hidden but always present. 

Still, when his phone buzzes with a text from Liam a moment later he immediately tenses, wincing as if he’s just been caught. 

He answers, hoping Liam doesn’t catch on to the grittiness of his voice when he agrees to come over to his and Niall’s dorm to watch a movie. Harry was lucky to score a single dorm in the beginning of the year which means he doesn’t have to worry about being discreet. 

When Liam hangs up, he gives himself another minute to lay there limply until forcing himself to get up and clean himself off.

He tugs one off again in the shower. Just because.

-

Just Harry’s luck, their next big assignment in Econ is announced to be yet another partner project. 

And yet _again,_ Professor Hanson assigns partners alphabetically. 

When, “ _Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson_ ,” is read aloud in his monotonous drawl, he almost snaps his pencil, exhaling heatedly. 

From somewhere behind him, he hears a familiar bratty voice let out a sound of displeasure, perfectly representing his own feelings on the topic. 

He listens studiously as the project is described: creating a business proposal including a financial plan and marketing strategy, pretty standard for a project. Harry’s pretty sure he did a similar project in freshman year but he’s not complaining that he has a second go with more experience under his belt. 

The only problem is _Louis._

Class wraps up and Harry begrudgingly gets up and turns to find the boy, grimacing when he finds Louis already scowling at him, hip cocked and arms crossed. People veer away from them, clearly sensing the palpable tension that crackles between them like a livewire, dangerous and explosive. It’s not a matter of if it’ll ignite, but _when_. Louis’ scowl only grows as Harry stops in front of him, matching his tense body language. 

Before Harry can open his mouth, Louis interrupts, “We’re not doing something unoriginal or stupid. Also I can’t talk right now, I have a class to get to that’s across campus.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Do you actually?” he asks, voice scornful, “or are you just being purposely difficult as always?”

Louis gives him a thin smile. “None of your business either way,” he replies, sweeping past him and bumping into his side deliberately and leaving the faint smell of peaches wandering into Harry’s nose. “I’ll focus on the designing and marketing and you can do the financial estimations. We’ll both come up with the idea and work on the presentation.” He says it so confidently, so cockily, that Harry sort of wants to protest just to oppose him. 

However, Louis is infuriatingly reasonable. Harry’s only minoring in business but he has a penchant for math and statistics so he’s the best candidate for heading the financial plan and Louis is a fashion major who’s also minoring in business along with graphic design (which Harry only knows because he talks about it all the fucking time) so he’s the expert when it comes to aesthetic and promoting. 

He still doesn’t agree verbally for pride’s sake. It doesn’t matter much seeing as Louis just walks right past him, not looking back but still taking the effort to call out over his shoulder, “Don’t fuck this up!”

Harry grunts, shoving his hands into his pockets. As if _he’d_ be the one to fuck things up.

God, Harry fucking hates him. 

-

“What the fuck!” Niall shrieks, slamming the controller onto the table. 

Harry just sneers smugly at him, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back on them lazily. Niall smacks him in the arm, grumbling under his breath about how Harry cheated. 

“Sore loser,” Harry drawls, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Bastard,” Niall grunts, getting up and grabbing their emptied crisps bowl for a refill. Harry cranes his neck to the side, eyes seeking out Liam who’s rummaging through his and Niall’s DVD collection which he’s been doing for the past half an hour, the crease in his forehead growing deeper and deeper as his frustration for not finding what he’s looking for grew with it. 

“I don’t think it’s there, mate,” Harry says helpfully. 

Liam shoots him a look. “It has to be! We watched it last month,” he insists, voice raising as he directs the next part towards the communal kitchen where Niall’s getting snacks, “Didn’t we, Ni?”

“I don’t remember that,” Niall yells back. 

Harry chuckles. “It’s _Pulp Fiction,_ can’t be hard to miss in a box that size.” 

“It has to be here,” Liam repeats relentlessly. “I don’t lose movies!”

“There’s a first for everything,” Harry says with a shrug as Niall returns. He snags a crisp and picks up the controller again. Based on Liam’s endless confidence, he and Niall have a few rounds to go. 

“It’s okay, Payno,” says Niall. “We can get another one.” He raises a brow, “or steal Devin’s. He seems like the type of lad to keep a copy under his bed.”

Liam glowers, glaring at the box childishly. “Fine, I give up! It’s lost!” He throws his hands up in the air for emphasis and Harry rolls his eyes. 

“Always did say _Pulp Fiction_ is no _Kill Bill_ ,” Niall muses. 

“ _Kill Bill!_ ” Liam exclaims. “I think we do have that one!”

“Why do I get the feeling that we do _not_ have that one,” Harry drawls, grabbing another handful of crisps. 

“Don’t think I’ve seen a Tarantino movie in that box ever,” Niall agrees.

After another four rounds, Liam finally surrenders, cursing Tarantino’s name as he slumps back to the couch in defeat. They start venting about school work, all of them exhausted but eager for the year to be over in just eight weeks. 

“So many fucking assignments,” Liam grumbles, “How the fuck are we supposed to finish them all?”

“Mate, I’m drowning in essays,” Niall wails, “and they’re all fucking due on the same day!”

Liam groans in sympathy. “I also got that Econ assignment to worry about,” he adds, shaking his head. “My partner is doing none of the work, it’s fucking awful.” 

“Don’t remind me about that assignment,” Harry frowns, glaring at the table. It’s been just over a week and they have only four days until it’s due. “I finished my part and Louis informed me oh-so politely this morning that he’s finished his but he hasn’t sent it to me. And we still have to work on the presentation.” 

“You two haven’t met up yet?” Liam asks, confused. 

“Liam, this is _Louis_ we’re talking about,” Niall says amusedly. “Harry doesn’t like him, remember? God knows why, he’s a funny lad.”

“He’s not funny,” Harry denies petulantly. “And we haven’t met up yet, no, but I guess we have to at least once.” He grimaces. “I’m going to have to talk to him _deliberately_ to ask.”

“Can’t you just text him?” Niall wonders. 

“Like I have his number,” Harry scoffs. “All of our past assignments together we’ve done completely separately and it always worked out. This is bigger though, I guess. It’s worth a lot of points and we have to figure out a presentation.” He frowns. “I guess I would prefer to text him because then I wouldn’t have to talk to him.” 

“I have his number,” says Niall casually. “I’ll text it to you.”

He blinks. “Okay,” he says dumbly, feeling uneasy at the prospect of having Louis Tomlinson’s number catalogued on his phone among the contacts of his friends and family. 

“I genuinely don’t understand your resentment towards him,” says Niall, shaking his head in disbelief. “If anything I thought you’d be into him. He’s exactly your type and all.”

Harry sputters, mouth falling open. “He’s- what the fuck? No, he’s not!” 

“Sure he is,” Niall continues. “Pretty with delicate features, and really smart and witty.” He waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously. “Nice arse.”

“Sounds about right,” Liam nods, looking amused. 

“Louis isn’t any of that,” Harry denies firmly, tips of his ears burning red as he glares at the both of them. The lie burns obviously between them but Harry refuses to agree with the accusation and its accompanying implications, true or not. “And he’s the _farthest_ thing from my type.”

Niall raises an eyebrow. “Sure, H,” he says, “we’ll go with that.”

“He’s not,” Harry insists, but the words fall flat even to himself. “Okay, fine _,_ he does share… _certain_ attributes with people I’m usually attracted to… But his shitty personality is a big turn off.” 

“He’s actually really nice,” Liam says. 

Harry scoffs. “Louis as in _Louis Tomlinson_?” he repeats, skeptical. “You know him?”

Liam nods, oblivious to Harry’s disbelief. “Yeah, we had Digital Photography together last year. He’s really sweet.”

Sweet? _Louis?_ No fucking way.

“You both are wrong,” he grunts. 

“Or maybe you’re a bit too biased by your irrational resentment,” Niall retorts. 

Suddenly Harry doesn’t feel much like hanging out anymore. He makes a shitty excuse about homework that his friends immediately see through but he can’t bring himself to care. With a furrow in his brow, he walks back to his own room with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

Niall thinking Louis is nice is one thing. An outlier, Harry muses, just like in his economics studies. But Liam thinking it as well? That just makes him _angry_. 

It isn’t rational but it just makes him wonder why everyone else thinks he’s so great- if Liam and Niall are right and he is really sweet, what did Harry ever do to warrant such a bratty attitude from him? It doesn’t make any sense. 

He falls down onto his back on the bed when he makes it to his room, throwing a hand over his eyes with a sigh. Just as he begins to relax his phone pings next to his hip, Niall’s text notification reminding him he hasn’t checked it yet. 

With heavy fingers he presses _add contact_ , then opens a new message. He types out a quick **Louis, this is Harry. when do you want to meet up to talk about the presentation?** It’s Friday night so they have the weekend to hopefully get together and finalize the presentation before it’s due at their Monday afternoon class. He hesitates, reading over the stilted message multiple times before shaking his head and just sending it. He hates how formal it is but he genuinely can’t imagine being casual with him either. 

Then he grabs his laptop and gets in bed to answer some asks and finish writing a post ranking his favorite fleshlights, a request he received after his last video. In the end, he ends up shutting the lid again. Instead of counting sheep, he falls asleep dreaming of all the ways he could humiliate Louis in front of the entire class. He’d never act on any of them but they’re satisfying anyway. His lips twitch just as he begins to snore. 

-

Louis never ends up replying to his text. Not the first one and not the second one or the third one or even the _fifteenth_ one. 

And now suddenly it’s Monday morning and Harry wakes up to an email notification from Louis. It takes him a minute of screaming into his pillow and punching the mattress before he calms down and replies with a **FUCK YOU.** He doesn’t bother reading the message. For all he knows, Louis just copy and pasted one of the messages Harry sent to him because he’s a fucking menace and he can’t take one thing seriously for his life. 

Honestly, he’s not even surprised. _Of course,_ Louis spends the weekend ignoring his texts only to email him eight hours before their class and presentation time and make things ten times more difficult than they have to be. 

He’s getting up and getting ready before he can think it through, mind already prepared for a loud screaming match. _He doesn’t even care,_ Harry thinks hysterically. Louis doesn’t care if he fucks up Harry’s grade- this had probably been his plan all along. 

God, Harry hates him so much. 

He needs to say it to his face and then demand that they finish the project because Harry will _not_ screw up this project especially since it’s such a big portion of their grade. 

Unfortunately, he has no idea where Louis lives or where to find him. However, Niall does and he’s all too happy to give him the address to Louis’ and Zayn’s flat once Harry informs him he will get it one way or another. 

His hands remain tensed the entire drive to their flat complex, jaw locked and teeth grit as he stalks up the stairs and down the hallway until he reaches flat twenty-eight. 

He knocks loudly, each thump echoing through the grainy wood deafening enough for whoever’s on the other side not to ignore him. 

The door opens and a sleepy and disgruntled Zayn is raising an eyebrow at him, lips parted. He seems to freeze when he realizes who it is, taking in Harry’s angry expression and disheveled appearance. It’s seven in the morning and Harry has a class in an hour but he has to do this first.

“Hello?” Zayn says cautiously, looking uneasy. 

Harry can’t blame him considering he probably looks like a madman. Louis makes him _feel_ like a madman. 

“Where’s Louis?” he asks briskly, trying to rein in his anger so as not to lash out at Louis’ undeserving roommate. 

Zayn sighs, but moves aside for Harry to come in. He steps into the foyer, eyes scanning the room but not registering any of the decor or pictures or artwork displayed on the walls. This would be a brilliant opportunity to soak up more potentially useful information about his least favorite person on campus but instead he’s too busy drowning in his anger and frustration. 

“Lou, get over here!” Zayn yells. “Harry’s here!” He turns to Harry. “Have fun. He’s pretty annoyed with you right now.”

Harry sputters. Louis is annoyed with _him_? 

Zayn disappears into the hallway right as Louis stomps into the room, hands shoved into the pockets of a sweatshirt that’s much too large for his smaller frame and a snarl etched across his face. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hisses, moving into Harry's face and glaring scornfully. 

Harry opens his mouth, momentarily blindsided by the sweet smell of _peaches_ that Louis is enveloped in. He blinks. On top of everything else, of fucking course Louis smells incredible. His nostrils flare and he switches to breathing in through his mouth, his earlier rage returning as he pushes away the distraction. 

"What the fuck is wrong with _you?_ " he bites back, "You've been ignoring my attempts to communicate all weekend for no reason other than being an asshole _. You're_ the reason we're going to fail."

They have six hours to finish this project- there's no fucking way they can pull it off, especially since they've never been able to successfully and productively work together without bickering, fighting, and wasting so much time in the past. Not to mention, Louis’ track record of making things much more difficult than they have to be. 

They're so fucked- _Harry_ is so fucked. Louis probably doesn't even care, probably doesn’t give a shit about his grade in this class as long as he can mess with Harry. It makes him want to scream. 

" _I'm_ the reason?" Louis repeats, hysterical, "You're a fucking bastard! That email was so immature- what are you, thirteen? I was trying to be civil and ask you if we could meet up this morning to finish the presentation and you just had to be an asshole."

Harry shakes his head, scoffing. "Because you ignored all of my texts! You're such a _brat._ You expect me to communicate with you when you refuse to do it yourself? I was giving you a taste of your own medicine!"

Louis pauses, brows furrowing. "What texts?"

Harry snorts. "Fuck off," he grunts, "You're such a dick, oh my god."

"No, seriously, _what text?_ " Louis repeats, looking baffled. He narrows his eyes. "You know I'd never give you my number."

"I got it from Niall," Harry grits, annoyed, "Stop trying to play dumb. I texted you a dozen times and you didn't answer a single one of them."

"Because I never saw them!" Louis snaps, looking pissed off. "I didn't get any of those texts, asshole. Did you double-check that you typed the number correctly? Or that Niall didn't make a mistake?"

Harry opens his mouth and shuts it, taken aback. He blinks, Louis’ words processing in his mind and ringing of truth. 

"Or better yet why didn't you email me? You already have my email which is why I tried to email you last night!" Louis explodes, smacking him in the chest. His face is red with anger, lips curled into a snarl, and his blue eyes steel cold. "If you think I'm so self-sabotaging that I'd _deliberately_ not answer any of your texts or make an effort, then you're even more fucking stupid than I thought, Styles."

“ _Please,_ anyone who compared our grades in this class could see the truth,” Harry snaps, losing his cool. He’s ashamed for his own actions but Louis goading him on isn’t helping. “You never even try.” 

Louis falters, mouth opening and closing. For a second, a shadow of hurt passes over his face and it cuts through Harry’s anger like a knife. 

Harry pauses, guilt bubbling up in his insides. It’s like the tension between them has been stripped, replaced with raw malice. He’s never seen Louis look so affected by his harsh words. Regret drips through his veins but his lips stay sealed. 

When Louis finally speaks, his voice is as cold as ice, all vulnerability hardening into anger. “You don’t know anything about me,” he snarls, eyes flashing. “You have no clue what the fuck you’re talking about. While you were doing the bare minimum to get ahold of me, I already started a draft and wrote the introduction. I actually sent you the link in that email that you chose to ignore. I suggest you go back and find it so we can actually finish this project. Get out of my flat.”

And then he just walks out of the room, disappearing the same way Zayn went with his fingers curled into his long sleeves and head held high. Harry stands there, stunned and for once, rendered completely speechless. 

-

Somehow they manage to pull off the project. Louis actually did a good job with the proposal and everything else flows easily once they get on the doc at the same time. They don’t speak or communicate beyond Louis hovering over his section of the speech as he types and restructuring every single sentence (completely unnecessarily Harry would like to add) to fit whatever vision he has. 

Harry doesn’t fight him on it this time. The remnants of his guilt have lingered and it just feels wrong. 

And then they present. It’s sloppy and rushed because they never got the chance to practice it but thankfully both of them are competent public speakers and they earn a solid B on the project. It drops Harry’s percentage by three points but it’s a little sacrifice for how relieved he is. 

Louis makes a snarky comment about Harry’s habit of going off topic while presenting when they find out, claiming it’s the reason they were docked a few points. 

Harry retorts with a comment on Louis’ distracting hand gestures but layered beneath his irritation, there’s wisps of relief settling in his mind. Relief to have Louis’ bitchy comments back and not the unfamiliar vulnerability that Harry never really knew how to handle. 

After class, Louis disappears and Harry sighs. 

“Honestly, I’m impressed with how smooth that was.” 

Harry nearly jumps, muttering a “Jesus Christ,” before turning to see Zayn leaning up against the table. He shrugs. “We figured it out.” 

Zayn hums thoughtfully. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you and Louis hating each other for no reason is really entertaining and honestly the only redeemable part of this class.”

He grimaces. “‘For no reason’ seems like a bit of a stretch.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” says Zayn before fixing him with a pointed look. “This time it was _your_ fault.” 

Harry winces, knowing Zayn’s right. However, he resents the implication that Louis hasn’t done way worse. “He’s always been unnecessarily hard to work with in the past. Trust me, we’ve had a lot of group projects together.” None as big as this one but he believes the point still stands. “We’re both mean to each other, yeah, but Louis is the one who’s always so obnoxious during class.”

“Yeah, well, duh,” says Zayn. “He’s trying to get your attention.”

“ _Exactly,_ ” Harry complains. “He purposely pisses me off and you say I don’t have a reason to hate him? It’s like he’s made it his mission to make this class even more difficult than it already is.”

Zayn frowns, brows furrowing. “No, actually. I meant…” He meets Harry’s eyes and purses his lips. “Never mind.” 

“It’s whatever,” says Harry dismissively. “My grade is intact and it’s almost the end of the year and then I won’t have to be Louis’ partner ever again.” Or so he hopes. 

“Right,” says Zayn carefully. He narrows his eyes. “Maybe keep your dislike for my best friend to yourself next time though, mate.” 

Harry grimaces, properly chastised. “Sorry,” he mumbles. 

Zayn just shakes it off. He looks like he wants to say something else but in the end he just turns and walks away. 

Like best mate, like best mate, Harry supposes. He pushes the thought down, grabbing his bag and following everyone else out of the room. He’s got another lecture in thirty minutes and the last thing he wants to do is spend that time thinking about Louis.

-

Harry knew today was going to be shitty from the moment he woke up and realized he slept through his alarm. 

Thankfully, he manages to make it to his Social Psychology class in time, but with a stinging welt on his side from when he knocked into the dresser and dressed in the sweats and shirt he slept in, not that he ever dresses up for morning classes in the first place. He also misses his usual morning coffee which makes him grouchy and short-tempered. 

He meets up with Niall and Liam for lunch and they manage to ease his bad mood… until Harry receives a call telling him he has to take a double shift at the cafe in the evening because one of his coworkers is sick. 

With that miserable anticipation looming over his head, he returns to campus for Econ. 

And as the icing on the cake, Louis seems to be particularly frustrating today. 

It’s not because he’s being louder or anything- actually, he’s been a lot quieter than normal, not being obnoxious or making quips and earning laughs from people around him like the people-pleaser and attention seeker he is. 

But every time Harry’s gaze wanders over to him, Louis is _smirking_. 

Eyes bright and mischievous and lips curled in a smug grin, and it makes Harry uneasy. Louis is looking at him like he knows something he doesn’t and if there’s one thing Harry hates, it’s feeling dumb. 

It’s why as soon as class is over, Harry stops him from leaving with a hand on his shoulder. Louis stills and Harry can hear his breath hitch. It’s more satisfying than it should be. 

“Styles,” Louis greets, turning around with a scowl. Zayn, who was next to him, rolls his eyes and walks off. 

“What’s your problem today?” he blurts, forsaking subtlety. He realizes his hand is still on Louis’ shoulder and retracts it hastily. 

Louis raises an eyebrow at him, lips curling into a wicked smile. “No problem,” he says, tilting his head to the side innocently. Harry hates the way it draws attention to the elegant curve of his throat. “Just happy I turned in my essay early this morning.”

He arches a brow, bewildered as to why Louis is telling him this. “Okay?” He shakes his head and begins to leave right as Louis continues. 

“Yeah, it was so satisfying _clicking_ that button to _submit._ Almost gives me a sort of thrill.”

Harry freezes, everything slowing down as he replays Louis’ words. His mouth drops open and he blinks rapidly, but nothing happens. Louis’ words aren’t taken back. _Clicking to submit._ He said _clicking to submit._ A surge of horror courses through him as he slowly turns around and meets Louis’ pleased face. 

“What did you say?” he hisses, heart pounding. There’s no way-

Louis raises his eyebrows, giggling. “Mr. Styles, you’ve got some explaining to do. Or should I say HS because that’s what you go by on your blog.” His eyes flicker down to Harry’s ringed fingers. “Like your rings which were featured very prominently in a very risque photo.”

Harry’s jaw drops, a mixture of mortification and disbelief warring in his mind. “You found my blog?” he asks pointlessly. 

“I’ve got to give it to you, the name is very clever,” Louis remarks, looking amused. 

Apprehension blooms inside him, stomach twisting with knots. He swallows. “Louis, what-”

“Mr. Styles, Mr. Tomlinson, you know how much I dislike loitering after class,” Professor Hanson interrupts from across the room, crossing his arms and frowning. 

“Sorry, sir!” Louis replies, before walking off quickly. 

He chases after him, grabbing his wrist and spinning him around when they get out into the hallway. 

Louis falters, eyes flickering down to their point of contact. 

Harry spares a glance too, faintly noting how his fingers easily envelope Louis’ slim wrist. He lets go as if he’s been burned. “You can’t tell anyone,” he says firmly, eyes flashing. He can’t fucking believe that out of every possible person to stumble upon his blog, it had to be Louis. Honestly, it’s as if the universe hates him at this point. 

“Oh, it’s a secret, is it?” Louis asks, voice edged with something dangerous. Anyone who passed by them and saw the two of them - saw Harry, who’s much taller and broader, looming over Louis who looks like the least intimidating person alive in a soft oversized sweater and light wash ripped jeans and his hands covered by his sleeves - would never guess what’s going on. 

“Louis,” he grunts, “if you have any human decency you will respect that I keep this part of my life private and-”

“I’m honestly curious how you even got into stuff like that,” Louis interrupts, sounding thoughtful and fascinated. “I would’ve never guessed.” He breaks off, raking his eyes over Harry’s figure and frowning. “Actually, never mind. You do give off those cocky, borderline sadistic vibes.”

Harry scowls at him. “My sexual preferences and what I choose to blog about are none of your business.” He pauses, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you doing looking up dom blogs anyway?”

His question makes Louis waver, a faint pink flushing across his cheeks. He looks embarrassed all of a sudden. “I saw one of your videos,” he mumbles, looking caught out. But then his face hardens again, pink lips twisting into a grimace. “I won’t tell anyone… _if_ you agree to do something for me.” 

“So you’re blackmailing me,” says Harry flatly. 

“I’m not- that sounds shitty when you put it like that,” Louis complains, suddenly sounding like a child. 

“It _is_ shitty,” Harry agrees. 

“I just need your help,” Louis snaps, looking all too annoyed about it. 

“With what?” Harry asks. 

Louis blushes again, harder this time. His answer comes out mumbled and inaudible even as Harry strains to hear him, leaning in closer and closer. 

“What?” he repeats, clueless as to what Louis could possibly want from him. 

“I need a dom,” he says, teeth grit and voice low. 

Harry stops short, eyebrows raising high on his forehead as the words process slowly. To his amazement, the meaning doesn’t change. “You- pardon?”

Louis glares at him. “Shut up, I’m _serious._ I haven’t slept with someone in months and I need it. I need… I need someone to distract me and take control. I need someone to just- take care of me,” he finishes, looking frustrated and impatient.

 _Need someone to take care of me._ Harry swallows. “What does this have to do with me?”

He receives a huff in exasperation as a response. Louis seems close to shy as he says, “You posted something about missing casual sex last night.” 

“I did,” Harry agrees, confused.

“And specifically how you missed domming someone on the regular but casually,” Louis continues, eyes widening meaningfully. “Do you get it now?”

Harry stares at him, the implications registering in his dazed brain. When it finally locks in, he bursts out laughing. It’s closer to guffawing if Harry’s really being honest, having to resort to bracing his hands on his knees to support his weight as he shakes with the strength of it. He’s sure people around them are sending them strange looks but he can’t help it. “You want me to dom _you_ ?” he says incredulously. He smiles condescendingly. “Why on _earth_ would I ever do that?”

Louis is seething before him, eyes like blue glass as his gaze turns icy. “You’ll do it because it’s your only guarantee I’ll stay quiet about your dirty secret.”

He chokes out a laugh, past his amusement and apprehension. “You couldn’t,” he retorts confidently. “You’re not that type of person.” He may despise Louis with every fiber in his being but he can also admit he’s too morally responsible to pull something like that. 

“Am I?” Louis counters, raising an eyebrow. “I think we’ve established that you don’t know me at all.”

Harry shakes his head. “You wouldn’t,” he affirms, “and you’re crazy if you think I’d ever agree to something like that.”

“You’re crazy for underestimating me,” Louis hisses, cocking a hip and crossing his arms. “It’d be so easy to text Niall the link to your blog. I could do it in fifteen seconds. And then I could tell Liam or _anyone_ from Econ really. I could tell Sarah or Jade or Ethan or Mindy or Klar or-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Harry interrupts, floored with the level of anger licking up his sides. “What is _wrong_ with you?” 

“I need someone to help me relax, that’s what’s wrong with me,” Louis whisper-screams, swatting him in the shoulder. “I’m too frazzled and jittery all the time and I want it to _stop._ So I’m giving you a proposition. Help me relax however _you_ choose or help me find someone else who can do it.” 

Harry is quite sure he’s dreaming. Never in a million years did he think Louis Tomlinson would ask him to dom him. He opens his mouth to argue but ends up blurting, “However I choose?”

Louis nods, almost breathless as he says, “You’re the expert, after all.”

Predictably, a statement like that sends a thrill buzzing through his veins, made especially satisfying coming from someone who never seems to give up control. For a second, Harry allows himself to entertain the notion. “Have you ever done something like this before?”

“No, not- me and certain ex-boyfriends have experimented with dynamics in the past but I’ve never done it seriously,” Louis explains, “but I know I can. I’ve done the research and I know what I want. I’ll be a good sub, I promise.” 

Harry almost groans, wanting to tell Louis not to just say stuff like that so casually. Louis has a way of being so filthy and confident with what he wants, but Harry knows there’s something else underneath. The boy who just blushed furiously when their hands touched and the one that tripped over his words. This is supposed to be blackmail, but Harry’s interest is growing for a different reason. He can’t ignore the way his body seems to react at the sight of a boy as pretty as Louis telling him he’ll be a good sub, a good sub for _Harry._

“It’ll be completely discreet,” Louis says, “and only till the end of the year. Everything will ease up by then, I’m sure.”

“I…” Harry shakes his head. “This is the strangest offer I’ve ever received, but…” He looks into Louis’ eyes and sees a sky full of emotions in his irises. Resentment and anticipation and anger and shyness and most importantly, _desperation._ “Okay, look,” he starts. “I can’t just agree to this without knowing how well we’ll work together.”

“You’re saying yes?” Louis blurts, as if he hadn’t been expecting him to. 

Harry rolls his eyes. The idea that Louis could blackmail him is honestly laughable, but now he’s somewhat intrigued. “We’ll do a test run,” he decides, “and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll send you the invitation to a local BDSM group monthly meeting for people to find matches for hooking up.” 

“Okay,” Louis agrees. 

“Okay,” Harry echoes, heart thumping in his chest like a drum. Is he really doing this? Is he really so desperate to get laid he’ll resort to messing around with his least favorite person? 

The answer is an unashamed _yes._

He _is_ desperate. It’s been almost three months since he’s slept with someone and even longer since he’s been able to do it the way he _craves._

Louis said he could be in charge- that he was the _expert_. A thousand scenarios roam through his brain and soon he’s blinking back a surge of desire, torn between feeling repulsed at thinking of Louis that way, or dangerously curious. 

He’s already been aware of his beauty, but the truth runs deeper than that. Over the past year, all Harry has wanted to do is shut Louis’ mouth and put him in his place.

 _This_ is letting him do that while also potentially getting him off. After all, who said “relaxing” couldn’t consist almost solely of Louis serving him? (Though probably not seeing as Harry prides himself on being a generous dominant… unless the moment calls for otherwise). Not to mention, he’s heard that hate sex can be _very_ satisfying. 

“I’ll text you and we’ll work out a time,” Harry adds.

“Okay,” says Louis again, blinking at Harry with an unreadable expression. “Um, I have to meet Zayn. He probably thinks you’ve injured me by now.”

It’s a lame attempt at humor but it lightens the heavy atmosphere nonetheless, and Harry just nods, eyes trailing over the lines of Louis’ body as he walks away.

Injuring Louis, no. But he’s now beginning to make plans for making him cry and fall apart, to make him _hurt_ in ways he hasn’t even imagined yet. 

Louis has no idea what’s coming for him. 

-

Harry tells Louis to come over to his dorm at six on Thursday evening, straight off from his shift as a barista at a shop just off campus. 

While he waits, he finishes an essay for Social Psychology and another assignment for Anthropology. He also calls Liam and they go to the gym to practice boxing. Harry takes out his nervous energy on the punching bag, livid with himself for feeling so fazed by it. 

He’s sweating and panting when he’s finished, but his muscles are burning and there’s a steady thrum of adrenaline buzzing through his veins that makes him feel a deep sense of satisfaction. 

After showering and gulping down the entire contents of his water bottle, he returns to campus and tells Liam he’s going to go finish the rest of his homework. 

Instead of the actual homework which he had completed hours ago, he tidies up his dorm. He keeps it pretty orderly for the most part but for some reason he doesn’t want Louis to see something so personal and inherent as the way he organizes his school textbooks and notebooks, or the way he leaves sticky notes with reminders for the day on the mirror hanging across from his bed, or his massive collection of candles which litter most of the surfaces in the small space. He’s already seen the part of himself that Harry keeps most secret- he’s going to have to work for anything extra. 

He also prints out a copy of a contract just in case. If this goes well and he and Louis end up creating an agreement, it needs to be recorded and done properly. Harry may be a naturally easygoing and spontaneous person, but he’d never endanger either of them by forgetting to set boundaries and make sure the limits are established. 

Though he wouldn’t admit it, he spends a good ten minutes pacing the room and trying to talk himself into cancelling. It’s a horrible idea for one- he and Louis can’t get along no matter how hard they try and it’s naive to think it’ll be any better if they’re hooking up. 

The idea of Louis as his sub, as _anyone’s_ sub, is just as laughable. 

Yet, he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop imagining what it would be like, can’t stop the curiosity coursing through his mind. 

A test-run, that’s all it is. 

When the knock finally sounds, he stills mid-step. 

For a moment he just stares at the door, wishing he could see straight through the wood to where Louis is standing. Another knock follows, a bit louder this time. He pictures Louis huffing, eyebrows furrowing and nose scrunching up in a way that was unfairly adorable. 

He finally kicks himself to gear when Louis knocks three times in succession, the annoyance palpable in the deafening raps. 

Sending a final prayer for himself, he opens the door. 

Louis is dressed casually like he requested, sweats and a simple thread-bare shirt. His hair is damp and curling at the edges, radiating that infuriatingly intoxicating smell of peaches and citrus. It seeps into his whirling mind and makes his heart rate quicken far too easily. 

“Come in,” he says belatedly, stepping aside. 

He doesn’t receive a reply. Louis looks almost _nervous_ and that knowledge eases Harry’s own apprehension as he instructs Louis to sit down on the bed. He himself sits in his desk chair, slouching and spreading his legs to take up more space, already manipulating the fact that he’s in his own space and Louis is unfamiliar with it to assert his own authority. 

For a few minutes they just study each other. Louis seems flustered under the weight of his gaze, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and ducking his head like he can’t handle the eye contact. Harry is honestly surprised about how easy it is to get to him, how easy it is to get him blushing. Why did he never notice it before? 

His internal thoughts are cut off as Louis speaks up. “Are you going to _stare_ me into submission or actually do something?” he asks loudly. 

Harry’s lip twitch. _There it is,_ he thinks. “I’m going to do whatever I please,” he says, “and you’re just going to sit there and look pretty until I tell you otherwise.” He says it firmly, no traces of hesitation or the awkwardness churning in his stomach because this is honestly the weirdest fucking situation he’s ever been in and he’s not exaggerating. 

Louis blinks, lips parting slightly as his blush grows. 

At this point, Harry is beginning to think this could be _fun_. 

He continues his assessment, keeping his face blank and his lips pulled into a line. He catalogues all of Louis’ little ticks, his fidgeting and the way he seems to squirm whenever Harry makes the smallest of movements. The bob of his Adam’s apple and the way his eyes dip to Harry’s hands as he clasps them, rings all on display. The flutter of his lashes as he tries to escape the intensity of Harry’s appraisal but is unable to look away. The way the pinkness of his cheeks has now spread down his neck like he’s a flower that’s blooming under the heat of Harry’s gaze. 

All of it is taken note of, _catalogued_ and stored away for later. He clears his throat, the sound jarring the fragile quiet that’s settled between them. 

“Stand up,” he says. 

Louis hesitates, but slowly gets to his feet. The hesitation will need to be worked on, but Harry isn’t concerned about it now. Today is just about setting a tone. It’s about establishing his command and making sure Louis accepts it. 

“C’mere,” he says, voice lowering, “and sit on my lap.”

There’s another beat of hesitation and Louis furrows his brows. “Um, what’s-”

“I didn’t realize such a simple instruction required talking,” Harry interrupts, keeping his tone even and deceptively pleasant. He examines his own hands disinterestedly, sparing Louis an unimpressed glance. “Only good boys get what they want.” 

He expected Louis to be at least a little difficult but he’s not against it. He actually prefers there to be a bit of work put in, for there to be a challenge - whether intentional on Louis’ part or not. 

As if reading his mind, Louis raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you have to earn my submission?”

“If I feel like it,” Harry drawls, “and if I don’t, I’ll get it anyway. Come here and _sit on my lap.”_

Louis shivers but he does as he’s told, walking to Harry with measured steps that emanate heavy uncertainty. He’s nearly dragging his feet by the time he reaches Harry, head tilting to the side as he stares at Harry’s legs helplessly. 

Harry takes pity on him, patting his leg and softening his expression enough for Louis to breach the remaining distance and carefully climb onto him. Harry curls an arm around his waist for support, letting Louis adjust with his legs draped over Harry’s thighs and a small hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

The process also includes Louis wriggling almost painstakingly over his dick. He winces the third time, tightening his grip in warning. 

Louis stills almost automatically, fingers pressing into Harry’s shirt and bleeding warmth through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

Harry is pretty sure he’s never seen Louis so quiet. 

He waits, soaking up the feeling of having a warm, small body in his arms after so long and paying close attention to Louis’ stilted breathing. The goosebumps ghosting over his arms. The reluctance as he brings his second hand to Harry’s other shoulder. 

For his part, Harry keeps his free hand on the arm rest and his head tipped back, wanting to maintain the lazy display he’s been building from the moment Louis stepped into his room. 

“Harry,” Louis breathes nervously. 

“Shh. I said to be quiet, sweetheart,” Harry reprimands, taking notice of Louis’ shudder. So pet names are a yes, he muses. Like many other things, terms of endearment are another possibility for asserting dominance over someone - in this case someone who reacts viscerally to affectionate names - by using them to remind the other of how easily they can affect them. 

Louis does fall silent this time, exhales fanning across Harry’s neck and hair tickling his cheek. He still seems anxious though and that has Harry softening a bit. “Louis, if we’re going to do this, you need to have a safe word. I’m a firm believer in using the colors: ‘red’ for ‘stop’, ‘yellow’ ‘slow down or unsure’, and ‘green’ for ‘ready’, but those are more for when I ask you your color. But if I ever do something you’re uncomfortable with or that’s too painful, then you say it and I swear I will stop everything.”

“Oh,” he says, looking overwhelmed, “um, can you pick one?”

“It’s better if you choose,” Harry murmurs, “so it’s something you choose for yourself to protect yourself and have a leverage against me. Like a weapon of a sorts, or self-defense?” Louis still looks confused so he adds, “I don’t plan on ever doing anything extreme in a session- it’s mostly just going to be getting each other off and other pre-agreed on things, but this is just a precaution. It can be anything, though nouns work better than adjectives and adverbs because you can visualize them. And it should be something that you wouldn’t naturally bring up in day to day conversation or in the bedroom.”

Louis scrunches his face up in thought. “Grapefruit,” he decides. 

Harry smiles despite himself. “Grapefruit?”

“I don’t like them,” Louis shrugs, “so it seemed like a good option.”

“Okay,” says Harry, slipping his mask back on. “Do you want me to get you off, Louis?” Louis stares at him with wide eyes. “When I ask you something, I want you to answer me,” Harry supplies. “Verbally.”

“Yes,” Louis breathes, fingers curling into his shoulders tightly. 

Harry slowly brings the hand that’s been pressed into Louis’ back up to his head, gently pushing his head down and into his neck. 

Louis exhales, lips brushing Harry’s pulse. He doesn’t move, letting Harry maneuver him around and slide his other hand up his thigh to the top of his sweatpants. When his fingers skim over the hem, Harry feels Louis’ breath hitch against his skin. 

Carefully, he slides his hand down under the fabric, tips of his fingers grazing his boxers. Then he waits, occasionally brushing his fingers teasingly. “What’s your color?” he tries, still too unfamiliar with Louis’ body language to make assumptions on whether he’s ready to proceed or not. 

“Green,” Louis whispers against his neck, “dark green, dark, dark, dark green.”

Harry lips curve up despite himself and then he shakes it off. He doesn’t find Louis amusing, especially not _now._ He slides his hand down into Louis’ boxers, savoring how Louis goes rigid automatically, gasping into his throat. 

He finds Louis’ cock and hums as Louis jerks, appreciating how it fits in his hand before sliding it out. He presses Louis’ face into him, keeping him from trying to look. However, Harry _does_ look, admiring his pink, leaking prick and how it feels against his fingers. 

“You have a very pretty cock. Did you know that, baby?” Harry says casually, just holding it in his hand and not doing anything. He could be holding anything right now for all he’s paying attention. “M’not surprised. Pretty boy with a pretty cock.” He ducks his head down and leans in to whisper in his ear. “Bet you’ve got a prettier hole.” 

Louis, predictably, starts squirming. 

“What,” he says helplessly. “What’re you doing?”

“Enjoying myself,” Harry says smugly, squeezing lightly so he can feel Louis’ cock twitch against his fingers. 

Louis makes an indignant noise, pressing forward into the touch. “Do something,” he hisses frustratedly, seemingly losing his previous shyness. 

“Hmm, I dunno,” says Harry, taking off another mask. 

“What?” Louis replies, sounding confused. “You said-”

“Y’know, you were being such a brat in Econ today,” Harry continues, a satisfied smile curving his lips. He’s been waiting for this exact moment ever since Louis knocked over his bag in class earlier and then proceeded to giggle loudly with Zayn while Harry was trying to listen to the lecture. 

“I..” Louis trails off, stiffening as Harry adjusts his hold. He marvels at how his one hand can envelop Louis’ entire cock. “ _Fuck,_ Harry. Please.” 

“I think you should apologize first,” Harry whispers, breath tickling Louis’ ear. He nips at his lobe right at the same time as he thumbs over his slit. “Bad boys don’t get to come, after all. Only good boys get what they want.” 

Louis shudders at the repeated rule. 

“Apologize for what?” he snaps, but his voice is wobbly. “I didn’t do anything.”

Harry hums, tracing a line down the length of his cock with his index finger. Louis jolts, body quivering. “Try again, baby.” 

“I’m sorry me having a good time bothered you so much,” Louis bites, lips parting. His teeth scrape over the juncture between Harry’s neck and shoulder. 

“Not what I’m looking for,” Harry shakes his head disapprovingly. He starts jerking Louis off slowly, barely moving his own hand for each stroke. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Louis moans, fingers digging into Harry’s body. He’s so loud and squirmy, whimpering and moaning and mewling and trembling and wriggling in Harry’s lap.

It’s way more appealing than it should have any right to be, his movements over Harry’s cock almost teasing and rousing. “All you have to do is apologize and you can come,” Harry murmurs, “or we can see how long it takes to make you cry. I’ll enjoy either one.” 

“God, of course you’re still an ass while doing this,” Louis snarks, voice wavering as Harry squeezes a bit on the upstroke. “I’m sorry for stealing someone else’s coffee this morning. I was in a rush and their order sounded better. Plus I saw them litter so I feel justified.”

Harry stills for a moment, taken off guard. Honestly, _what the fuck?_ “Not that either,” he says, tamping down the surprised smile curving at his lips. 

“I’m sorry for saying Victor’s dick is ugly,” Louis breathes, “even though it is. I’ve seen it. He doesn’t know how to use it either.”

This time Harry barely manages to suppress the startled laugh that pushes at his lips, confused but frustratingly amused by whatever the fuck Louis is trying to do. “Louis,” he says warningly, trying to get control back.

“What? I’m apologizing,” says Louis innocently. “I’m sorry you thought that jacket you were wearing in class today was the right fashion choice because-”

Harry twists his hand tightly and Louis jumps, swearing. “It’s vintage,” he argues. “God, you’re such a brat.”

“I’m an angel,” Louis counters, sounding breathless and desperate but also unfailingly determined. 

“This _angel_ won’t be coming if he doesn’t apologize,” Harry taunts, rubbing over his slit again and spreading the precum. He squeezes again, tracing a line down his length. 

Louis moans. “Fucking hell, I’m _sorry._ ”

“For what,” Harry prompts, smug. 

“Sorry for,” Louis pants, chin knocking into Harry’s collarbone, “for having fun in class unlike you-”

Harry halts his ministrations and Louis whines. “Sorry, what was that?” 

“Fuck,” Louis bites out, squirming in his arms. “M’sorry for…”

“Say it,” Harry presses, not moving an inch. 

“I’m sorry for being a brat,” he gasps out, trembling. “Please, please, _please._ ” 

Harry continues his prior pace, sliding his hand up and down almost lazily. “And?”

“And _what?_ ” Louis pants, rocking into Harry’s touch only to be held in place by Harry’s arm. 

“And, you need to be put in your place,” Harry drawls, teeth grazing the skin under his ear. “You’re a brat who wants attention and you need me to teach you a lesson. Like this. Don’t you, baby.”

Louis shudders, voice wobbling as he repeats it. “ _Fuck._ I’m… I’m a brat who wants attention and you need to- _fuck,_ to teach me a lesson. Now get me off, Styles, or-”

Harry curls a hand around his neck and presses down firmly right as he twists his hand expertly around Louis’ cock, eliciting a choked off yelp. 

Louis goes completely slack, head lolling onto Harry’s shoulder and body contracting as he comes into Harry’s fist, trembling with the strength of his abrupt orgasm. 

Harry guides him through it, running soothing hands down his sides and whispering soft words of encouragement. He wipes his sticky hand on the conveniently placed rag he left on the desk, keeping Louis close. When he finally settles and his breathing evens out again, Harry narrows his eyes. “How was that?”

The look Louis gives him is withering. “Adequate,” he says flatly, sliding off of Harry’s lap and pulling up his sweats and boxers. He glances down at Harry’s crotch where his cock is straining at his jeans. “Do you-”

“Not today,” Harry brushes off. “Today was about seeing if you’d fit as a sub for me and if I could provide what you’re looking for.” He raises an eyebrow expectantly. “How’d I do?”

“I said adequate,” says Louis flippantly, but Harry can see the remnants of his rosy cheeks which easily dispute his nonchalance. “So… you’re accepting?”

Harry bites his lip, nodding. He genuinely can’t comprehend that he’s actually doing this- that he actually _wants_ to do this. “Yes.” 

“Oh,” Louis murmurs, sounding a mixture of relieved and surprised. “Good.”

“Here,” Harry says abruptly, opening a drawer and pulling out the contract he printed out. “This isn’t going to be super serious but as a good dom I feel compelled to give you a copy detailing our agreement. You should read it through carefully and sign it if you feel like it’s fitting. I was thinking two sessions per week and we can work out the days and times later? 

“Okay,” Louis agrees, taking it from him hesitantly. “Do you need to sign it too?”

“Yeah, I have my own copy,” Harry explains. “Relationships, er- arrangements like this are a two-way street and we should both know exactly what we’re getting into before boundaries or lines are blurred. It’ll also ensure that neither of us get taken advantage of in any way.” _Except for the part where this started because you blackmailed me,_ he thinks bitterly. “I’d also like a list of your hard and soft limits and things you think would be most effective for helping you… relax.”

Louis nods. “I’ll do that,” he says. 

They stare at each other, an awkwardness settling between them. It’s suddenly increasingly prevalent that he and Louis are not friends, are the farthest thing from friends actually.

Uncertainty and reminders of how annoying Louis is bubble up in his mind and he clears his throat. “I’m gonna take care of myself,” he says, gesturing lazily to his dick. “You can see yourself out.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Have fun,” he says sarcastically, looking like a vision with the fading rays of sunset cast over him through Harry’s window, his lips bitten and red, and his skin glimmering with sweat. 

“I will. Don’t worry about me, peach,” Harry retorts, taking even himself by surprise with the pet name. 

Louis seems to falter at it too, blinking rapidly. Harry decides it’s a winner when Louis doesn’t respond, lips parting like he wants to bite back, but can’t. 

He dismisses Louis with an admittedly patronizing wave and Louis glares at him before stomping out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him and Harry sighs, heart finally calming down and his body untensing. 

Harry comes into his fist in under two minutes, the image of Louis’ head thrown backward and eyes clenched shut painted vividly behind his eyelids. 

-

Louis is late. 

Harry notes this with a fair bit of exasperation as he glances at his phone for the fifth time in the past ten minutes. 

Six o’clock is what they decided on- six o’clock every Tuesday and Thursday, just four hours after Econ together. It’s Tuesday and the day of their second session and Louis is _late._

By fifteen minutes so far, but Harry isn’t holding his breath. He’s honestly not surprised. _Of course,_ Louis isn’t taking this seriously. He never takes anything seriously and this is no different. 

Grumbling under his breath, he gets out his laptop to work on one of his many essays. He starts typing, hitting the keys arguably much too violently for a comparatively simple essay. And of course, he can’t ignore the burning of anger and irritation licking up his insides. 

He should’ve known better, should’ve known that Louis is still the same person regardless of their new arrangement. Still disagreeable and intentionally difficult and still a _brat._

Harry’s busy- he’s busy with homework and running his blog and his shifts and with keeping up with his gym regime and Louis can’t just show up whenever he sees fit and expect Harry to bend to his whims. 

It’s 6:39 by the time Harry hears a knock at the door. 

He gets up, breathing out harshly through his nostrils. Then he stalks to the door, yanking it open and bracing his hand on the doorframe. 

Louis is wringing his hands anxiously, dressed in jeans and a cozy green sweater which is definitely not what Harry told him to wear. “Hey, Harry, I’m sorry I’m so-”

“Get in,” Harry interrupts, voice like gravel. “Take off your clothes and lay down on your front.”

Louis blinks at him with wide eyes, lips parting. 

“Now,” Harry says, practically vibrating with anger. 

Surprisingly, Louis listens immediately, ducking under Harry’s arm and into the room. 

Harry waits a few moments, breathing in and out and trying to grasp some semblance of control. He turns around slowly, seeing Louis standing in front of his bed having discarded his sweater, socks, and shoes unceremoniously around him. 

He’s still in a thin shirt and his jeans, looking at Harry uneasily. 

“Get undressed,” Harry snaps, crossing his arms. 

Louis flinches, hands going to his zipper. He pauses, sending Harry a hesitant look. 

“What?” Harry says, getting more annoyed. 

He doesn’t receive a response. Louis exhales shakily and unzips his jeans, sliding them down quickly before gripping the edge of his shirt. He pauses again, wearing a nervous grimace as he slowly drags the material up, revealing inches of sun-soaked skin. He drops it on top of his sweater, hunching in on himself. 

Harry rakes his eyes over his body, brows furrowing when Louis places his arms over the small pouch of his stomach, blushing. It hits him a moment later: Louis is being shy. 

Not just shy, _insecure._ He stills. Louis Tomlinson is insecure about being naked around him. It’s a startling revelation especially since Louis has never been anything but self-assured around everyone else, knowing his strengths and assets and flaunting them shamelessly. 

Does he- Does he think Harry is going to be _rude_ to him? The thought prickles at his insides uncomfortably. Harry may hate Louis but he’s not _cruel._

And besides, Harry finds his tummy cute. 

“Don’t hide, peach,” he says, softening his voice and expression enough for Louis to feel comfortable enough to move his arms away. Harry meets his eyes, making sure Louis is paying attention when he says, “You have nothing to feel embarrassed about.” _You’re so pretty, it’s unfair._

Louis nods, his blush growing. 

Harry clears his throat, smoothening his face out again and remembering that Louis was _late._ “Lay down,” he snaps, “and grab a pillow to put under your hips.”

He obliges, grabbing one of Harry’s pillows and climbing on the bed to lay on it. Suddenly inches of smooth, golden skin is displayed for Harry to admire, eyes wandering over the curve of his spine to the dimples at the bottom of his back that lay before the swell of his arse. He’s still wearing boxers and Harry is itching to change that, but not yet. 

Instead he slowly walks over, making sure each step echoes as he moves closer and closer. He catalogues the goosebumps which dot Louis’ skin when he shivers. Harry takes a second to appreciate how he’s fully clothed while Louis will soon be fully naked and at his mercy. 

It’s always been a thing for him- having someone at their most vulnerable and exposed state while he’s got the upper hand. And having Louis like this - obnoxious, loud, untouchable Louis - is even more satisfying. 

He sits down at the foot of the bed, mere centimeters from Louis’ ankles. “What’s your color?” he murmurs. 

“Green,” Louis whispers, exhaling quietly. 

Harry carefully circles Louis’ bare ankles, his fingers easily enveloping the slim joints. Louis tenses under his touch but relaxes right after. He thumbs over the delicate skin gently, letting Louis slowly become more comfortable. 

Then he slides his hands up the backs of Louis’ legs, keeping his touches fleeting but methodological all the same. Louis sighs, falling pliant easily. 

Harry stops when his fingers meet fabric, teasingly dipping them under and skimming over Louis’ upper thighs. 

Louis jerks, making a small sound which is muffled against the mattress. He’s burying his face in his crossed arms, shoulders quivering. 

Very deliberately, he clenches his fists and angles his hand so his knuckles - and more importantly, his rings - brush under the hem, cool metal a stark contrast from his warm skin. 

“Harry,” Louis pleads, but he sounds so dazed that Harry’s pretty sure he doesn’t know what he’s pleading for. 

“Almost forty minutes late,” he remarks, “I’m disappointed to say the least. You’ve been a bad boy, Louis.” He keeps his tone conversational- like they’re talking about homework or something equally trivial. “Do you know what happens to bad boys?”

Louis shudders, croaking out a soft, “They get punished.”

“They do,” Harry agrees, fingers dancing up the curve of Louis' arse to curl into the waistband. He tugs slowly, letting Louis feel every centimeter of the material drag down his bum and then down his thighs and calves until Harry’s sliding them off of him completely. 

His eyes roam over the plump cheeks and supple skin, a spark of arousal coiling in his stomach. He leans closer, gripping Louis’ hips and maneuvering him into arching his back: presenting for him. Then he cups each cheek with two hands, squeezing and spreading them to reveal the pink pucker of his hole. 

“Hello there, beautiful,” he breathes. 

Louis tenses. “Did you just-”

“Quiet,” Harry interrupts, eyes not leaving Louis’ arse. He lets go for a moment, leisurely examining his rings and sliding them off- all of them except for two. The metal H and S glint under the dim light of his fluorescent bulb.

He spins them so the protruding letters are facing out from the front of his hand. Then he gently presses his hand flat against Louis’ cheek, waiting for him to get it. 

When he does, he stiffens. 

“Familiar, huh?” he murmurs. “These are how you found me and my blog. Can’t ever forget that, can we. And you definitely won’t be forgetting it anytime soon.” His voice lowers at the last part, ringing of a promise. 

He rubs over Louis’ arse, already eager to see if these cheeks flush just as beautifully as the others. “You’re going to get twenty today,” he decides. It’s not the harshest he can be, but it’s also the first time they’re doing this. Louis listed it as something he enjoyed but that didn’t mean Harry isn’t going to be cautious. “One for every time I checked the time and was reminded of your failure to meet such a simple request.”

Louis mewls into his arms, squirming into the pillow. Harry doesn’t need to check to see if he’s hard- he can see it in his restless movements and the flush blooming onto his nape. 

“Color,” he checks again anyway. 

“Green,” Louis answers immediately, sounding earnest and eager. 

“Hands and knees,” is Harry’s reply, helping Louis into position with steady hands on his hips. He places a single hand on the center of his spine, settling the trembles and easing Louis’ breathing. 

Then he’s sliding it back to his arse, kneading and pulling at the flesh until Louis is no longer rigid in place. He takes his time, lulling Louis into a false sense of security before his hand raises abruptly and returns just as fast, landing on his cheek with a resounding slap. Pink spreads in his wake, blooming like a flower. 

Louis whimpers, loud and strangled as if it had clawed up his throat and spilled from his lips against his best efforts. 

“Count,” Harry commands, rubbing over the skin soothingly. It wasn’t hard enough to imprint his letters, but Harry is just getting started. 

“One,” Louis breathes, voice hoarse and wrecked already. 

Harry lands another slap, harder this time. He lets his hand linger when he’s finished, fingers splayed out over the flesh possessively. 

“Two,” Louis croaks, head dropping down helplessly. 

The next two resound on the other cheek, hard and in quick succession. The last thing he’d do is not pay equal attention to both, hands itching to create a matching set of pink handprints. He does his best to keep the same angle, wanting to deepen the slowly appearing imprints of initials, pale against the rosy skin. 

“You’re going to feel it tomorrow,” he grunts, landing numbers six and seven, the thought scorching in his mind. “Whenever you sit down in class or to eat, you’ll feel the ghost of my hands on you. It’ll _hurt_ but that’s what you want, isn’t it?” It’s a dizzying realization and Harry wishes he and Louis had a class together tomorrow so he could see, and _hear,_ when he sits down on the plastic chair and winces at the sting. Number eight leaves his fingers prickling from how hard he hit, red flushing beautifully across tan skin. 

He waits a second as Louis shakes, keening high in his throat. “When you’re getting dressed, you’ll see my initials embedded in your skin, _branding_ you,” he grunts. Then he’s landing nine and ten. “You thought you were so clever, stumbling across my site and recognizing my rings. Of course you recognize them- I bet you stare at my hands all the time, don’t you? Imagining what they’d do to you. Did you picture this, baby?”

Louis whines, pushing back into the touch. He’s dropped back to his front again, unable to support his weight as Harry increases the strength of his smacks. Thirteen and fourteen.

“Did you try to blackmail me knowing you’d end up laying here getting taught a lesson,” Harry continues. “I bet you did, peach. Because you like this, don’t you? Like me putting you in your place, like the pain, like the idea of being able to feel the sting days later. You little _slut._ ”

Fifteen and sixteen. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you were late on purpose too,” Harry breathes, leaning in close enough for his breath to fan over the raw skin.

Louis shivers, whimpering softly as Harry lands seventeen and eighteen. He’s stopped counting at this point, reduced to a pile of desperate sounds and moans. 

There’s pale indentations of ‘H’ and ‘S’ on both of his cheeks, stark in the midst of stinging pink flesh. Harry has never seen a more beautiful sight. 

He moves his other hand from Louis’ hip to spread his cheeks, exposing his fluttering hole. There’s no hesitation as he lands nineteen and twenty directly over the pink entrance. 

Louis _screams_ , body jerking before falling slack. Harry doesn’t have to see to know that he came, completely untouched. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis babbles. “You didn’t say I could, sorry-”

“It’s okay,” Harry assures him, heart racing. If anything he’s in awe- Louis came just from Harry slapping his arse and it’s way more arousing than it has any right to be. He clears his throat. “I’m gonna come on your arse, hold still.”

He doesn’t bother shoving his sweats down too far, just pulling his excruciatingly hard cock out and jerking off quickly and efficiently. Louis has gone boneless, looking like a dream come true with his pink arse and Harry’s initials displayed so proudly and prominently. 

With that to wank off to and taking into account he’s been hard ever since Louis started taking his clothes off, Harry reaches his climax quickly, twisting on the upstroke and groaning as he spills. 

Cum splatters over Louis’ arse, evoking a full-body shiver as his cool release soothes the burning sting of his hands. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, blinking dazedly at the mess - the _masterpiece_ \- he’s created. He sort of really doesn’t want to clean it up, but it goes along with his ideals of being a good dom that Louis’ comfort comes first so he grabs his rag and wipes him down carefully, conscious of the pain as he keeps his touches fleeting and featherlight in the aftermath. 

Louis doesn’t complain once, head turned over to lay on his side and reveal bitten lips and tear-stained cheeks. He _cried_ from how good it was, from how good Harry made him feel. He’s disappointed he didn’t get to see it. 

There’s always next time, he reminds himself. 

He wipes down his front too, sneaking a hand down in between Louis’ torso and the mattress because he doesn’t want to turn him over and make the pain worse. He grabs some lotion next, rubbing it over the tender skin in a soothing pattern. 

When he’s finished, he picks up Louis’ clothes and folds them on the bed next to his sprawled out figure. He had been convinced that he was going to kick Louis out as soon as the session ended, not wanting to spend any more time than necessary with him. 

But, looking at how woozy Louis looks, all spent and still reeling from his orgasm, Harry doesn’t have the heart. Besides, he’s completely silent which means Harry can tolerate his presence for a little bit. 

After a moment’s hesitation, he presses a hand down on Louis’ back, sliding it up and down comfortingly. Louis makes a soft sound, sinking under the touch. 

“You good?” Harry asks softly. 

“Mm,” Louis nods, nuzzling into the bed. “S’good,” he slurs. 

“You were good,” Harry replies, thinking that Louis needs the praise right now in his fragile state. He’s proven correct when Louis preens at the words, hiding his pleased smile in the sheets. He bites his lip. “Hey, Louis,” he starts reluctantly. 

“Hmm?”

“I’d really appreciate it if you were on time for these things,” Harry says firmly, trying to stay civil. His earlier frustration returns in full-fold as he remembers just sitting there and waiting, irritation sprouting in his mind and limbs. “I’m taking time out of my daily routine to do this for you and it’s really shitty if you’re just going to brush it off like it’s nothing. I could’ve been at the gym or writing a blog post or hanging out with friends instead of this but I’m here. So I’d appreciate it if you show me some respect.”

“I’m so sorry,” Louis says and he… he sounds _genuine._ It catches Harry off-guard, having been fully prepared for Louis to deny or argue or worse, turn it back around on Harry while playing victim. “I was babysitting my siblings and my mum was late from work,” he continues guiltily. “I sent you an email but I guess you didn’t see.”

“Oh, I… I didn’t,” Harry says lamely, feeling ashamed all of a sudden. Louis had been babysitting his siblings, not blowing him off intentionally. “God, Louis, _I’m_ sorry. I just assumed.” 

“S’okay,” Louis shrugs, face still buried in the mattress. “I think this is a sign I should actually give you my number now. I have to babysit my siblings quite often so it seems more logical that I can text you and let you know if I need to cancel.”

“Reschedule,” Harry corrects. 

Louis turns over, raising an eyebrow. “You mean you wouldn’t take the chance to get out of another session with me?”

Harry’s throat feels dry as he shakes his head. “No, of course not. Not when it’s for something… something like that.” Something as selfless and kind as watching your younger siblings while you’re in college and have a bunch of other things to do. 

For the first time ever, Harry notices the bags lining Louis’ eyes, dark and obvious. He notices the exhaustion encrusted in the lines of Louis’ face. And worst of all, he sees the guilt- guilt as in he genuinely feels upset about being late and upsetting Harry. He remembers what Louis said after he fucked up with the project. _You don’t know anything about me._

He’s beginning to realize he may be right. 

“Louis,” he starts before breaking off, unable to articulate what he wants to say. He shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize for that. It’s not your fault. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions without verifying anything first.”

“It’s okay,” Louis assures him. His eyes flutter shut, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “This was a nice reward,” he admits. 

Harry blinks, smirking. “Oh?”

“Don’t get cocky, Styles,” Louis defends hastily, brows furrowing while his eyes remain shut. “I said nice, not good.”

“That’s not what it sounded like earlier, peach,” Harry drawls. “Y’know, when you were _screaming_ and _crying_ -”

Louis fumbles for a pillow, smacking Harry with it. 

The childish move sparks a laugh from him, surprising Louis as much as it surprised him. He diverts attention to it by smacking Louis’ arse cheek, savoring the indignant hiss it provokes. “Get out of my room.”

“Asshole,” Louis mutters, sitting up. 

“Brat,” Harry counters, eyes lingering on the dip of Louis’ waist as he tugs his shirt and sweater back on. He smiles when Louis winces at the feel of his boxers sliding over his arse. 

Louis shoots him a glare as he tugs his jeans back on, legs wobbling. His hair is all disheveled and damp with sweat, eyes red-rimmed and glassy with unshed tears, and his skin is glowing as if he’s radiating the light of the sun himself. His lips are slick with spit and bitten red, utterly enchanting. 

It’s really fucking unfair how stunning he looks. 

Louis blinks at him, looking unsure. “Adequate,” he murmurs finally, nodding curtly before walking out the door. 

Harry stares at the spot he just left, eyes blurring as he replays the brief moment of hesitation where it seemed like Louis was going to say something else. Whatever it was, Harry has a feeling it’s only between Louis and the universe now. 

-

Two days later, they have their third session. 

Louis shows up on time looking tired and worn out. It’s perhaps his exhaustion that compels him not to argue when Harry orders him to take his clothes off and sit on his lap. Once again, Louis is naked while he’s still clothed, the remnants of Harry’s handprints still lingering on his cheeks two days later. He’s squirming and whimpering when Harry slides his first finger inside. 

Harry once again marvels at how _loud_ Louis is, sounds spilling from his lips like honey and sugar. Every single noise goes straight to his cock and it doesn’t help that Louis physically cannot help but wriggle and fidget, grinding down against Harry’s finger. 

It’s a sharp contrast to how quiet he was in class- that’s right, Louis was _quiet_ in class today. No obnoxious comments or whispering or giggling. Harry had thought for a while that Louis was absent, but then he glanced back and saw his familiar form enveloped in a baggy Avril Lavigne shirt with his head ducked low as he took his notes. 

Louis was… taking notes. He was taking notes in class and being _quiet._

It was the most bizarre class experience of Harry’s college life. He kept waiting for the ball to drop and for Louis to act out, but he didn’t and Harry grew more and more amazed as time passed. 

At one point, he glanced back and caught Louis’ eye. He didn’t even do anything except hold the eye contact, willing Louis to smirk or slip a hint to whatever nefarious scheme he’s plotting but instead, Louis just blushed and looked down. 

Very peculiar indeed, but Harry is remaining skeptical. 

He tightens his hold around his waist, fingers digging into the skin in hopes of leaving marks. More reminders for Louis to see and remember what Harry did to him, how Harry made him feel.

Louis drops his head to Harry’s shoulder when he inches a second finger in, mewling into his shirt. He continues pushing into the touch, swivelling his hips in effort to get Harry’s fingers deeper. 

Harry doesn’t let him get away with it, murmuring, “Be still or you won’t get any more and we’ll just sit here until you’re screaming for it.”

As expected, Louis stills.

He waits until Louis chokes out a broken moan, fingers curling around Harry’s biceps excruciatingly tight. Then he starts talking. “Why were you so quiet in class today?”

Louis flinches, lips parting against his neck. He makes a small confused sound, jerking when Harry rams his fingers into him harsher. 

“You were so silent,” Harry continues, “taking notes and not being a brat like usual. Did I spank the brattiness out of you?”

“What-” Louis’ words get choked off as Harry slides a third finger in, spreading and stretching him wider and wider. The air is thick with the scent of peaches, intoxicating sweetness seeping into Harry’s nostrils.

“You were blushing too,” Harry continues slyly. “Baby, were you embarrassed?”

Louis shudders, biting down on the juncture between Harry's neck and shoulder and making him wince. “No,” he breathes, but there’s uncertainty in his denial. 

Harry hums, scissoring his fingers and easing them higher and higher. “I think you were,” he drawls. “Couldn’t stop thinking about me, could you? About your punishment?”

“No fucking way,” Louis grits, whimpering as Harry pinches his hip, “you conceited bastard.”

“Oh? So you weren’t staring at me in class and remembering how good I gave it to you,” Harry goads. He has no idea if Louis was genuinely staring at him, but he can tell by the angry flush blossoming on his nape, that Louis is affected by the accusation. 

“You’re reaching,” he murmurs, clinging to Harry when he starts speeding up. 

Harry can feel Louis’ cock in between their stomachs, hard and leaking. He pulls Louis closer, trapping it between the heat of their bodies and providing more friction. “Am I?” he asks. 

Louis moans, caught between pressing down into Harry’s fingers and forward to rut against Harry’s abs shamelessly, not even caring that he’s smearing his precum over Harry’s shirt. 

To be frank, Harry doesn’t care too much either. 

He’s achingly hard, thriving with the weight of a warm, squirmy body moving practically on his dick. “Am I really reaching?” he repeats, amusement lacing his tone. “Let’s not forget how you found me, kitten. Searching through dom blogs and watching my videos. How many did you watch? Before you realized it was me? Or… _after_ you realized?” 

Louis keens when Harry hits his prostate, maintaining the angle and driving his fingers in roughly. Harry feels a wetness on his collarbones. _Tears._

“You watched a lot of them, didn’t you?” Harry continues, smug and a bit in awe at the idea. 

“I didn’t,” Louis stutters, but his voice wobbles with the lie. Harry smirks. “Shut the fuck up,” he gasps, conflicted on whether to squirm away or into the touch as Harry eases the tip of a fourth finger into his entrance. 

Harry responds by shoving three fingers into Louis’ gaping mouth, muffling his resulting choked off cry and savoring the tears that spill from Louis’ eyes as he gags. He hits Louis’ prostate again, slowly maneuvering him from his lap until he’s laying down flat against the bed with his legs spread apart and Harry between his thighs. 

Louis moans, skin flushing prettily as Harry shoves his fingers deeper into his throat as he continues pushing his fingers in and out at an almost animalistic pace. 

“Watching those videos of me fucking fleshlights,” Harry grunts, “wishing it was you I was fucking. Bet you dreamed about it.”

Louis whines around his fingers, movements getting sloppier and sloppier as he grinds messily into Harry’s hand. 

“Bet you got off on it,” Harry hisses, eyes gleaming. Louis stiffens and Harry realizes, mouth dropping open. “You did, didn’t you? Imagined I was using you like I was using that toy. Imagined me filling you up and throwing you around. You just want to be full all the time, don’t you? Little cockslut.” He jams his fingers into Louis’ throat, holding them there and revelling in the way Louis chokes around them, tears dripping down his face. “My fingers now but you want my cock, don’t you?”

He catalogues the way Louis’ muscles tense and contract, trembling with the onslaught of his approaching orgasm. 

“I’ll give you my cock soon,” he promises, fingertips brushing the back of Louis’ throat as he shoves his other fingers deep into Louis’ hole, imagining how tight it’s going to feel around his cock when he finally gets it in there.

Louis comes with another scream at the promise, cum spurting up his sweat-slick honeyed skin and choking around Harry’s fingers. Saliva coats his fingers when he slides them out, drool dripping down Louis’ chin messily. Harry has the urge to lick it off but he restrains himself. 

He doesn’t move his fingers from Louis’ hole until he starts squirming from oversensitivity, chest heaving as he tries to control his breathing. It’s instinct at this point as he reaches for the nightstand for a rag to wipe him down. 

“Did you mean it?” Louis murmurs, eyes shut closed and eyelashes clumped together from his tears as Harry gently cleans him up. His cheeks are pink and wet, hair tousled and damp with sweat, and his eyes are watery and glazed, big and blue and earnest as they blink at him. 

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing. “Me fucking you?”

Louis nods, blushing. 

“Yeah,” he says, surprised at how eager he feels- surprised at how Louis looks even more eager. “Maybe in a week or two.”

“Okay,” Louis breathes. They stare at each other for a few lengthy seconds, awkwardness permeating between them before Louis clears his throat. His eyes flicker down to where Harry’s bulge tents the denim, gaze searing through the fabric and making his cock throb. “Um, do you want some help with that?”

And when a pretty boy - bratty or not - offers to jerk you off, you never say no. That’s Harry’s philosophy anyway. 

He lets Louis push his jeans and briefs down, gripping his cock with delicate fingers and staring at it with appreciative blue eyes for a few moments before Harry curls a hand in his hair and _tugs_ to urge him on. 

It’s much too attractive, the way Louis’ small fingers look wrapped around his cock, barely able to cover half of it. It’s a stark contrast from the way Harry’s hand covered the entirety of Louis’ smaller cock and the difference makes Harry’s blood rush south. 

Louis jerks him off slowly, a bit messily because he’s still dazed from his own orgasm but still enthusiastic and eager. 

Harry keeps one hand tangled in his hair and the other pressing him closer at the bottom of his spine, head dropped to Louis’ shoulder so he can brush his lips over his pulse and feel the steady pounding against his mouth. 

He skims his lips down Louis’ throat and begins sucking on the skin, suddenly longing to see how pretty a bruise would look on his smooth skin. 

Louis whimpers softly, hand stuttering in its movements. He continues with a renewed vigor, twisting and squeezing on the upstroke and thumbing over the head of his cock teasingly. 

It’s almost like a competition- the way Harry continues sucking a path of bruises down the column of his throat and to his collarbones, making them big and obvious, while Louis retaliates by changing his angle and making Harry groan, bucking into Louis’ hand. 

He almost comes when Louis pulls away and drops to his knees. “Can I?” he asks, staring up at Harry from under his lashes like he wants his explicit permission. 

Harry nods gruffly, wishing he wasn’t already so close to his release. 

It only takes Louis wrapping his pretty lips around the head of Harry’s cock and suckling gently while his hand slides down the remainder of his length and then back to fondle his balls for Harry to groan, thrusting forward mindlessly as he comes down Louis’ throat. 

Louis swallows it all up greedily, looking content with his lips slick from Harry’s cum. 

“Jesus,” Harry mutters when Louis nuzzles into his thigh, looking seconds from falling over. His heart twists strangely when Louis’ eyes flutter open again, staring up at Harry expectantly like he’s waiting for approval. “That was good, peach,” he offers, softened by his release. “Good boy.”

“Okay,” says Louis, sounding breathless. He stands up shakily and Harry braces him with a hand on his hip. Louis blinks rapidly, frowning as he tries to gain his bearings. “I have to finish sewing a jacket for an assignment due tomorrow morning.”

“Have fun,” Harry says only half-sarcastically. He plops down on his bed without a care for the messy sheets. “Don’t prick yourself with a needle.” 

Louis stumbles to the door, nearly tripping twice. Harry clenches his fists, resisting the urge to reach out and help him. He opens the door and steps out, pausing for a moment with his back to Harry. “Bye, Harry,” he says softly, looking over his shoulder at Harry before closing the door behind him. 

This is probably the first time Louis has ever said goodbye to him, he realizes. It’s a strange thing to realize and an even stranger thing to keep track of but Harry feels oddly pleased. 

Later on, Harry may or may not film another short video for clicktosubmit and he may or may not caption it with _“thinking of peaches.”_

Louis may or may not blush when he sees it. Harry couldn’t know for sure, but he’s got a good feeling about it. 

-

It becomes a bit of a game to him. 

Ever since Louis’ silence in class has continued, Harry finds himself purposely trying to catch Louis’ eye, smirking whenever he does and Louis immediately blushes. Because he _always_ blushes. It’s like seeing Harry automatically flusters him. 

One time Harry walks into class and walks by Louis who’s talking to Zayn, brushing by his side and continuing to his seat. When he glances back discreetly, Louis is frozen in place, a faint blush crawling up his cheeks. 

Zayn looks amused, shooting Harry a curious look. 

Harry turns to the front of the classroom, smirking. This is going to be fun, he thinks. 

From then on, he really can’t help himself. He brushes past Louis on the way out of class and memorizes the little shudder that Louis lets out before going rigid and glaring. 

Later that day when Louis shows up for his session, he jerks them both off while Louis sucks on his fingers and tries to hold back his tears. He teases Louis for being so shy around him and Louis is too lost in his own pleasure to argue back.

Harry honestly wishes he can keep him on the cusp of an orgasm all the time. He’s so much easier to tolerate when he’s got Harry filling him up somehow. 

Two days later, and now he’s walking with Niall on their way back to the dorms and he sees Louis talking to Perrie Edwards nearby. He’s dressed in sweats and a big sweater with damp hair curling at his neck. He looks so effortlessly pretty and soft and Harry sort of wants to ruin him. They have a session in less than ten minutes actually but he still can’t help but subtly steer Niall in their direction, hoping his friend will spot the pair first and want to socialize. 

Since it’s _Niall_ and he _always_ wants to socialize, he notices them and immediately calls out a cheery, “Perrie! Lou! How are ya?”

He pulls Harry along with him and he has to bite down on his smirk when he sees Louis look over, freezing when his eyes skate over to Harry. 

Niall hugs both of them and Harry’s smile grows when Louis continues staring at him over Niall’s shoulder, looking uneasy. 

_What are you doing?_ he mouths. 

Harry just feigns confusion, turning his attention to saying hello to Perrie. They’ve talked a few times but he doesn’t know her that well. However, telling by the way she sends Louis a curious glance, she clearly knows him. 

Niall asks Perrie about one of their shared classes and Harry takes the opportunity to move next to Louis. He stands close enough for their sides to brush, savoring in the way Louis stiffens when they do. 

It’s so easy to fluster him, Harry realizes. And he _really_ likes that. 

He also really likes the way his cheeks flush when Harry moves his hand to the small of his back discreetly, humming to whatever Niall just said as Perrie laughs. 

Oh so carefully, he skims the tips of his fingers down to the swell of Louis’ arse, keeping his touches fleeting and featherlight. Louis is completely still, eyes fixed on Perrie as she tells some story about her and her friend Jade going clubbing the other day and bumping into a supposed psychic. 

Harry curls a hand around Louis’ right cheek, not doing anything yet except letting it rest there. A promise. Louis jumps, stifling a whimper. He continues to hold it and when Louis laughs at something Niall says, he _squeezes_ once. Firm and distinct. 

Louis’ laugh cuts off and he chokes, barely managing to turn it into a cough while Perrie and Niall shoot him concerned looks. 

He squeezes again a few seconds later in the middle of Louis talking about the school play and how he’s not acting this year because he doesn’t have time. Harry didn’t even know Louis used to act. He never saw the Spring school play except maybe once in freshman year. He wonders if Louis was ever the lead. He probably could have been- he’s loud and bigger than life and demands everyone’s attention when he steps into the room. 

Harry blinks, realizing he’s getting carried away. His next squeeze is probably on the side of too harsh but Louis bites his lip, stifling a moan as he pushes back into the touch. He definitely wishes he had bumped into Louis the day after he spanked him- this would be ten times more fun if Louis was still sore from Harry’s hands. He’d probably end up screaming in front of the others. Harry would really enjoy that. 

“Well, I have to meet Alex for our date,” says Perrie apologetically. “but it was good seeing you, Niall.” She hugs him quickly before making her way to Louis, meaning Harry unfortunately has to let go. He clasps his hands behind his back as Perrie says goodbye to Louis, promising to see him later that week. 

She hugs him too, telling him she’d love to get to know each other better. He reciprocates, smiling charmingly and letting Louis make up excuses about having to go do his homework. 

Harry makes his own excuses too, saying he’s got an essay to finish. 

Niall hugs Louis goodbye, making him promise to go to karaoke with him next week which Louis agrees to, a light blush on his face. Instead of hugging Harry, he just smacks him on the arm and tells him that he’s feeling underappreciated as a friend. 

Louis cackles of course and Harry shoots him a look but plays along with Niall’s dramatics, apologizing sincerely and promising he’d make it to game night next week. 

Then Niall finally walks off and so does Louis, except they both know he’ll be at Harry’s door in about ten minutes. He’s just keeping up appearances.

Harry walks back to his dorm, thinking randomly about how Niall or Liam would react if they knew how Louis and him were messing around. If they knew that maybe Harry didn’t quite hate him anymore. 

He blinks. _Does_ he not quite hate him anymore? 

Frowning at the outrageous thought, he busies himself with answering a few asks on Tumblr until he hears the familiar loud knock cut through the air. 

Harry opens the door to face a very flustered and pissed off Louis Tomlinson. 

“Hey, baby,” he greets, smirking. 

Louis’ face pinches, lips pursing like he’s trying to keep himself from speaking. It doesn’t last long. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he hisses. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Harry says smoothly. 

“Yes you do, asshole,” Louis argues, poking him in the chest. It’s more amusing than painful but Harry still grabs his finger in his hand, squeezing once and enjoying the way Louis falters. 

However, he regains his irritation quickly, yanking his finger away from Harry’s grip. “What was that?” he demands. 

“What did it look like? I just grabbed your finger,” Harry says flatly, “because you attacked me.”

“No, with Niall and Perrie,” Louis hisses, smacking him on the chest. “That- that’s not what you’re supposed to do.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Harry inquires innocently, biting back a smug smile. 

“You’re supposed to calm me down, not rile me up!” he bursts, looking flushed and frustrated. He pushes past Harry and stalks into the room. 

Harry raises an eyebrow and closes the door, turning around and leaning back against the wood. “Oh?” 

“Yeah, _oh,_ ” Louis echoes, mocking. He narrows his eyes, crossing his arms. “It seems to me that you’re not doing your job properly.” 

“Is that so?” Harry says casually, brows raising even higher. He straightens up, taking a step forward, keeping his eyes locked on Louis’ figure. “Please, do continue.”

He tracks his movement, but forges on, undeterred. “You said you’d help me relax but that did the _opposite!_ ” 

Harry shrugs, taking another two measured steps forward. “ _That_ was just some fun, but I think we both know I can give you what you want pretty well.”

Louis huffs in response, practically vibrating with anger but his eyes are blown with lust. “That’s debatable,” he denies. 

“Is it?” Harry muses. Another step. He’s slowly breaching the distance between them, the remaining feet crackling with tension. 

He watches Louis’ Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly, taking a step backwards only to bump into Harry’s bed. “Yes,” Louis continues, determined. He stares at Harry challengingly. “To be honest, I’m sure others could do better.”

Harry breaks, striding forward and gripping Louis’ shoulders firmly. He shoves him down until he’s seated on the bed, staring up at Harry with wide, anticipatory eyes and his lips parted invitingly. Harry just stares at him for a minute, memorizing the delicate lines of his face and the lust clouding the skies of his irises. 

Then he starts pulling at Louis’ clothes, not even asking before tugging his shirt off and flinging it across the room. Louis sucks in a breath but goes along with it, wiggling his shoes off and then his socks right in time for Harry to slide his sweatpants and underwear down in one swift movement. Once again, Louis is left bare and exposed in front of him.

“Color?” he asks abruptly, trying to control his harsh breathing. 

Louis stares at him, curiosity and excitement laden in his eyes. “Green,” he breathes. 

Harry nods. “Turn over,” he commands, voice gone hoarse but still steady. 

Louis exhales deeply, before complying. He braces himself on his elbows, body arching up almost subconsciously. Inches of unblemished, smooth tan skin is unveiled before Harry’s eyes, hips curving into the swell of his arse.

Harry skims his fingers down his back languidly, tracing down his spine and before ghosting over his cheeks. Louis shivers, letting out a small gasp that cuts through the room. Harry punctuates the soft sound by grabbing his cheeks and _squeezing_ possessively. 

The shudder it elicits is all too rewarding. 

Harry hums, kneading lightly at the flesh and slowly spreading his cheeks to expose the pink pucker of his hole, all smooth and clean from Louis’ shower. 

“Do something,” Louis hisses, wriggling his arse impatiently. 

It earns him a hard slap, Harry’s fingers tingling with the aftershock. He admires the bloom of pink on honeyed skin, smiling at Louis’ choked whimper. “Good boys will get what they want,” he reminds. 

“What’re you even going to do?” Louis presses, ignoring Harry’s warning like the brat he is. It’s definitely like he _wants_ to be punished at this point, Harry muses. 

Well, he won’t give him the satisfaction. 

He continues his ministrations, squeezing and savoring the true glory that is Louis’ bum. And then Harry leans in and blows softly onto his hole. Louis tenses, breath hitching in his throat, and he smirks. 

“You said I wasn’t doing my job,” he drawls slyly, breath fanning out onto Louis’ fluttering entrance. “That someone else could do better… That’s quite an accusation, kitten.” 

Louis inhales sharply, quivering as Harry licks a stripe up his perineum teasingly. 

Harry licks his lips before circling Louis' rim teasingly. Louis' body goes rigid before falling completely pliant, a small _thump_ cutting through the tension in the room as his head drops to the mattress. "Now you're quiet," Harry murmurs smugly, before flattening his tongue over Louis' hole and dragging it across slowly. 

He doesn't even try to retort, a fucking miracle. 

Harry continues his ministrations, tongue dipping in past Louis' rim just enough to have him squirming before retracting. His jaw strains as he gets really into it, fingers digging into the plumpness of Louis' sun-kissed thighs and hoping to see imprints of his hands when he’s finished. 

Louis has gone completely boneless now, whimpering softly as Harry bites down on his left arse cheek, leaving a satisfying red mark in his wake. 

"This is why you don't underestimate my abilities, peach," he drawls, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his hole and lingering long enough to feel the slight tremble in Louis' legs. "I always do what I say I'll do. I'll always give you what you need.” His teeth scrape over his rim teasingly. “I’m the _only_ one who can give you what you need.”

"Bastard," Louis breathes, voice wobbly and scratchy, “I hate you so much.”

Harry hums disinterestedly, biting down on his right cheek to create a matching set. "Whatever you say, sweetheart." He licks back into his hole, flicking his tongue just enough to stimulate but not enough to satisfy. Not yet. 

He leans back again, hands sliding up from his thighs to spread his cheeks again. He nips at his left arse cheek again, before bracing Louis carefully and landing a hard slap onto his right cheek. 

Louis jolts, whining into the sheets. He squirms but doesn’t move much thanks to Harry’s grip on him. 

Harry follows the slap with two more in quick succession and then another three onto his other cheek. A lovely shade of pink spreads over the skin and Harry buries his face in it, pressing soothing wet kisses into the stinging flesh. He doesn’t know where the tenderness is coming from- it just feels instinctual at this point, like he’s getting comfortable in this arrangement… getting comfortable with _Louis._

He doesn’t know how to process that so he licks into Louis’ hole yet again, but this time he gives Louis the pressure he’s been seeking, tongue fucking in deep over and over. 

All it takes is Harry sliding a finger in carefully for Louis to cry out, spasming with his release. 

Harry licks him through it, tongue tingling with the taste of sweat and skin. He presses one final farewell kiss to Louis’ slick hole before dragging his lips up his spine where he attaches them to Louis’ neck. 

“Are you…” he whispers, biting Louis’ earlobe playfully, “relaxed yet, baby?”

Louis isn’t capable of answering, face smushed into the mattress and limbs still quivering from the strength of his orgasm. 

“Thought so,” Harry murmurs smugly. 

The resulting elbow to the gut he gets in return is worth it. 

-

“Harry?” 

Harry pauses, Louis’ voice registering in his mind. He turns around and raises an eyebrow, surprised to see Louis at his place of work. 

It’s Saturday afternoon which means he’s got a double shift and he’s been there since eight in the morning, making coffees and dealing with entitled customers and thinking more than once that he’d really rather be doing anything - like, _anything -_ else than be here, so all in all just a typical shift.

He’d been zoning out, thinking vaguely about how he wants to go to the gym later today and then maybe out clubbing because he hasn’t gone in a while. He was almost maybe thinking about how he either needs to restock on ramen which has pretty much become his staple for non-cafeteria-or-take-out dinners. Either way, he was so distracted he must have missed the familiar scent of peaches permeating in the air as Louis approaches him. 

“Louis,” he says belatedly. “What’re you doing here?”

It’s now been about six months since he's been working in the small establishment and he’s worked a variety of different shifts over that time. Never once did Louis ever come in during any of those shifts. 

Louis furrows his brows, looking around confusedly. “I’m here for the porn shoot. Did I get the right address?”

Harry rolls his eyes, suppressing his smile. 

“I’m here for coffee. What do you think?” Louis continues, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you worked here. I thought your job was…” He lowers his voice, “your blog.”

“You don’t have to whisper if you’re just saying blog,” Harry says amusedly, “and well, I do work here so...” He shrugs. “What do you want?”

Louis orders tea which is honestly all kinds of messed up considering he’s at a coffee shop. Harry tells him about his contradiction and Louis responds by flipping him off before walking away to sit at a corner table. 

And though Harry shouldn’t care about what he’s doing at all, he still finds his eyes wandering to where Louis is curled up in the plush seat, nose buried in a book. 

He takes little breaks where he sets down his book with a bookmark in place to pick up his cup with two small hands, raising it to his lips and sipping before setting it back down and grabbing his book again. He does it over and over and Harry really doesn’t know why he continues to observe, oddly endeared by the way Louis wrinkles his nose when he reads something he doesn’t like or the way his lips curl up when he reads something he does. 

And for some reason when he takes off his apron for his twenty minute break, his feet automatically start moving towards Louis’ table. His brain scrambles for an excuse as he sits down in the chair across from Louis who hears the sound and looks up at him, confused. 

All that comes out is, “Are you reading Pride and Prejudice?”

Louis flinches, startled, but he nods slowly. 

Harry just stares at him. “I didn’t take you for an Austen person,” he says honestly. 

“Yeah, well you also think I’m stupid and don’t care about anything intellectually stimulating,” says Louis dismissively. 

He opens his mouth, shocked. “I don’t- I don’t think you’re stupid,” he mumbles. 

“But the other part?” Louis raises an eyebrow. 

Shame and guilt bubble up inside him. “I… It was wrong of me to make assumptions about you,” he says sincerely. “I’m sorry.” It feels strange apologizing to Louis, but he’s rational and sensible enough to recognize that he does owe him one. 

Louis just stares at him, nodding once. “S’okay, I guess. I know it’s in our relationship for us to assume the worst about each other.”

Harry furrows his brows. “What did you assume about me?”

“Um,” Louis says, looking embarrassed now. “I thought you were so easily irritated and stoic all the time because you hadn’t been laid in a while.”

It takes a second for him to process this and when he does, he barks out a laugh, surprised. Louis watches wide-eyed as Harry continues to laugh for a bit. “You know what,” he says when he finally catches his breath. “I think you aren’t too wrong. I do get specifically difficult to deal with when I haven’t fucked someone in a while.”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “So it’s been a few years then,” he jokes. 

Harry narrows his eyes, but a smile curls up his lips to contradict it. He can’t tell which one of them it surprises more. 

And he definitely can’t tell who’s more surprised after Harry spends the entirety of his break talking to Louis. They talk about Econ and Pride and Prejudice (Harry tells Louis that Mr. Darcy gives off major dom vibes and Louis gives him a _look_ ) and through the entire twenty minutes, they don’t fight at all. 

They argue, but it’s more friendly banter than angry insults. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever spent this much time interacting with Louis and having it be completely friendly save for their sessions when Louis is too busy whimpering in pleasure to insult him. 

When Harry returns to his shift with a smile on his face, a cleared throat draws him out of his strange happiness. 

He glances at his coworker, Sarah, who he’s friendly with after working plenty of shifts together. He pales as he suddenly remembers that she has Econ with him and Louis. The smile drops off his face. 

“I thought you two hated each other,” she says, raising an eyebrow. 

Harry’s eyes flicker over to where Louis has returned to his book, biting on his nail cutely as he reads with wide eyes. He’s definitely on a good part and Harry has the sudden notion that he’d love to be able to read Louis’ mind and see what he’s thinking. He brushes it off, alarmed at the friendliness that sort of thing implicates. “We do,” he says firmly. 

Sarah just gives him a weird look. “‘Kay,” she says, but she sounds like she doesn’t believe him. 

It doesn’t matter anyway. Harry knows he hates Louis and Louis knows he hates Harry and they both know they hate each other. That’s all that matters. 

-

Harry texts Louis and asks him if he’s clean at exactly 7:02 am Tuesday morning. 

He doesn’t expect to receive a reply for a bit and is surprised when his phone dings and he sees Louis has texted him back. 

**_What_ **

Rolling his eyes, he texts back his reply. Of course Louis won’t just give him an answer without trying to make things more complicated. 

**Do the math: i’m clean + you’re clean = i can come in your arse and fill you up the way you’re going to beg for it.**

**_Quite the assumption to say i’d ever beg for anything_ **

**You beg all the time**

**_Sounds fake_ **

And then, **_yes_ **

Harry smiles, already itching with anticipation. He’s not ashamed in the slightest to admit that he’s missed fucking, missed taking someone apart and putting them back together, missed filling them up with his cum and watching it leak out after. 

He sends back a cryptic **tonight** and then slips his phone into his pocket, already knowing that Louis is going to leave him on read. He’ll give the illusion of not caring but Harry already knows he’s affected by this and the thought of Louis going through the day with the weight of knowledge that Harry’s finally going to fuck him is much more satisfying than it should be. 

His thought is only confirmed in class when Louis doesn’t say a word, keeping his head down as he scribbles down notes. He doesn’t even speak to Zayn who Harry catches trying to talk to Louis multiple times during the lecture with no luck. He catches Harry’s eye once halfway through, gaze blazing into him as if saying _You did this._

He _did_ do this and he’s very smug about it. 

Professor Hanson ends up having to call Louis’ name three times at the end of class, making a comment about how Louis needs to be paying more attention. 

Louis’ face is burning when Harry glances back at him, the red only darkening when he meets Harry’s eyes. He drops his head again and Harry smirks, insides twisting with anticipation.

It’s going to be a long four hours, he thinks. 

But they’ll all be worth it. 

-

The knock that sounds at the door that afternoon is more timid than Louis’ usual but Harry knows it’s him. He’s a minute early and looking soft and eager in his crew neck and leggings, hair damp and curling at the ends. 

Harry beckons him in, swallowing the sudden lump that forms in his throat as it fully hits him that he’s going to be inside Louis within the next hour. 

He meant it when he said he missed sleeping with someone. He’s never really slept around that much in college but he’s still had his fair share of one-night stands and hook-ups. However, those are difficult to come by when he’s busy with homework and exams and working. And even then, it’s much more difficult to find someone who’d let him fuck them the way he really wants to. Agreements like that take a lot more time and negotiation. 

The fact that he’s going to be able to fuck Louis like that sends a thrum of excitement through him. 

“I have to be somewhere in a few hours,” Harry starts, surprised at how disappointed he feels about it. 

“Okay,” Louis nods. 

They look at each other with varying levels of eagerness and nervousness. 

Harry clears his throat, pulling his lips into a firm line. He rakes his eyes over Louis’ legs, the curves of his calves and thighs much too tempting thanks to the skin tight fabric. “Take off your clothes.” 

Louis doesn’t argue, moving towards the bed while tugging his vans off and then his crew neck and the shirt underneath. Harry’s eyes skirt over the red imprints of fingers lingering on his waist and hips, smug. It takes a bit longer for Louis to pull his leggings down but once he does, he flings them across the floor and glances down at his boxers, a question in his eyes. 

“Not yet,” Harry says, taking a step closer. “Lay on the bed. On your stomach.”

He complies, turning his head to stare at the nightstand as Harry puts a knee on the mattress. He grabs the lube too, setting it next to Louis’ face so he’s reminded of what’s to come. Then he leans forward and presses a greeting kiss to the nape of his neck. 

It instantly soothes the small trembles that had been overtaking Louis’ body, making him relax. The kiss soon turns into him sucking a hickey onto the delicate skin, big and bold. 

Harry slowly slides his fingers under the material of his boxers, groping at his bum unabashedly while he sucks a path of bruises down his back. 

Louis whimpers, turning his head to muffle the sounds into the sheets. 

Grunting, Harry curls a hand into his hair and pulls back, savoring the startled yelp Louis lets out and the exposed line of his throat. He takes the opportunity to bite down on his pulse, feeling his heart rate spike beneath his lips before licking a stripe over it to soothe the sting. 

Farther down, Harry slowly pushes his underwear down, sliding his fingers down his crack and rubbing the dry pad of his thumb over Louis’ fluttering hole.

He gets a gasp in return, back arching up into Harry’s chest. He holds Louis down with firm hands, murmuring a quick, “Stay still.” 

Louis stills automatically, breaths coming out short and shaky. 

Harry leans back for a second to take off his shirt, fitting himself back to Louis’ back and basking in the feel of warm skin on warm skin. 

He presses Louis down with steady hands on his hips and drags his mouth down his spine, teeth scraping against soft skin and leaving red lines in their wake. Louis trembles beneath him, mewling into the bed. 

Slowing down, he brushes his lips down the curve of Louis’ arse, tongue slipping out to lick up his perineum and over his hole. Louis moans, fingers curling into the sheets desperately. 

Harry, quite literally, buries his face in Louis’ arse, jaw straining as he wastes no time in licking into his hole. Louis whimpers, legs spasming and almost kicking Harry in the ribs if he hadn’t been holding him down. 

He flattens his tongue, trading between licking in languidly and circling his rim with just the tip. Eating someone out has always been his favorite method of foreplay especially when it affects the other person this much- where it feels like they’re falling apart under his tongue.

It feels like Louis is falling apart under his tongue. 

Eventually, he grabs the lube and slicks up his fingers, inching one in with his tongue and remembering that he picked out peach flavored lube specifically when it meets his taste buds with a burst of sweetness. 

He backs away and continues to slide his finger in and out, watching the way it disappears into Louis’ hole with dark eyes. He takes his time, using one hand to spread his legs further apart before adding a second finger and scissoring them. 

Louis has mostly gone silent save for the occasional whimper or moan, legs shaking on either side of Harry. He looks like a vision, soaked in sunlight and sweat and flushing with the prettiest shade of red. 

Harry feels like it’s gotten _too_ quiet, so he continues his fingering but uses his free hand to land a slap on Louis’ left cheek. 

Predictably, Louis yelps, body tensing. 

He waits for the slight pink flush to fade before landing a second one, then a third, and then a fourth and fifth on the other cheek. It’s almost like he can’t help it, but what can he say- Louis has an arse made for spanking. 

Eventually he adds a third finger, grabbing a pillow and sliding it under Louis’ hips to get a better angle as he works on stretching him open. 

“Hurry up,” Louis rasps, squirming into his fingers. 

Harry pinches his thigh. “Not yet. You need more prep.”

Louis huffs. “I think you’re greatly exaggerating how much prep I need.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry says, amused. He shoves his gym shorts and briefs down, letting his hard cock slap against his arse. “Sweetheart, I think we both know I’m not exaggerating _anything.”_

“Too cocky for your own good,” Louis mutters. 

“Because I have a lot of cock,” Harry drawls, “and you’re not getting any of it unless you stay quiet and be good.” He punctuates that by changing the angle and ramming up into Louis’ prostate. 

The whine he gets in reply is sweeter than honey. 

However, he too gets impatient, entranced by how tight Louis feels around his fingers and imagining how tight he’d be around his cock. So he searches out Louis’ prostate one last time, revelling in the way Louis jerks, before taking his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets. 

Then he finally slicks up his cock with lube, grunting a stern, “Hands and knees.”

Louis scrambles to oblige, chest heaving and head dropped low between his shoulder blades. Harry grips the side of his neck for balance as he lines up behind him, slapping his cock against his hole a few times before slowly inching in. 

He doesn’t go slow, pushing in through any resistance and holding Louis steady when he gasps, nearly tipping over. “Color?” he checks, teeth grit in an effort to keep his hips from bucking forward. 

“Green,” Louis breathes, sounding wrecked already. 

Harry doesn’t wait any longer, pulling out and immediately slamming back in. Louis lets out a choked noise, shaking as he rams in again and again. “Jesus, fuck, you’re tight,” he grunts, dragging one of his thrusts out long enough to feel the rough glide of his cock into Louis’ hole. 

It doesn’t take long for him to lose the ability to hold himself up, falling helplessly forward onto his now crossed arms. Harry follows, planting his forearms on either side of Louis’ head and changing the angle to a much deeper one. 

His front slides against Louis’ back, the obscene sound of skin slapping skin ringing through the room along with their pants and groans and whimpers. He moves his hand from Louis’ neck to envelope his wrists in one palm, pinning them above his head on the mattress and rendering him defenseless to his almost animalistic thrusts. 

He presses in deep, a triumphant wave of pleasure overtaking him when Louis keens high in his throat, arching up into him. Prostate. 

Maintaining the angle, his hips begin snapping forward of their own accord, the hard pounding of his heart growing almost deafening as he chases his release. His heartbeat reverberates through his body, seeming to engulf the entire room as he reaches his climax. 

His ears buzz as he slides his hand from Louis’ wrists back to his throat. “Stay,” he grunts, trusting Louis will listen and keep his hands in place while he wraps a loose hand around his neck. 

Shoving in deeply, he bites down on Louis’ shoulder and presses down onto his neck, cutting off his airflow for a crucial few seconds which is all it takes for Louis to come, _screaming_ into the room. 

He clenches down on Harry’s cock and he groans, fucking in sloppily a few more times before he falls over the edge, biting down on his shoulder again. 

When he recovers, he unclamps his teeth from Louis’ shaking form, licking at the blood in his mouth. Louis slumps forward with a muted whine, skin gleaming with sweat and burning to the touch. 

Harry pulls out slowly, both of them wincing at the oversensitivity. 

He resists the urge to shove his cum back into Louis’ hole, knowing the boy wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead he rolls over, eyes fluttering shut and a smile curving onto his lips. 

“That was good,” he slurs, a low thrum of satisfaction beginning to settle in his stomach. There’s a pleasant ache in his muscles from the exertion and he feels like he’s soaked with sweat but most of all, he feels content. 

When he receives no response, he opens his eyes and gently places a hand on Louis’ back, feeling it rise and fall with every breath. 

Louis looks boneless, body lax and docile and face slack when Harry looks at him. If it isn’t for the lazy flutter of his lashes, he’d think he fell asleep. 

“Hey, peach,” Harry whispers, fingers skimming up to his face where he thumbs at his cheekbone gently. “All good?”

It takes a second for Louis to respond, leaning into Harry’s touch and scrunching his nose cutely. “All good,” he slurs, sounding out of it but also happy. “Need a shower,” he mumbles as an afterthought. 

Harry hums, lips curling up into a smirk. “Or you could walk out of here with my cum dripping out of your arse as a reminder of me filling you up,” he says smugly, dragging his thumb down to Louis’ lips. His breath catches when Louis’ lips part invitingly, allowing the tip of Harry’s finger into his mouth and suckling at it lazily. 

“I could,” Louis mumbles around his finger, “but that’s disgusting, so no.”

“Not disgusting,” says Harry, arching a brow. “I could make it an order and you’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Louis makes a sound of disagreement. “I’m going to meet with Zayn and I’m not showing up like this no matter what your strange possessive tendencies want me to do.”

Harry sighs disappointedly, smiling when he feels Louis’ own lips curve against his finger. “Fine,” he says, “but we’re showering together because I have to leave soon.”

Once Louis accepts, he gets up and stretches leisurely. It takes him a second to realize Louis is staring at him, eyes tracing over the lines of his abs and lips parting in desire. 

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” Harry rolls his eyes, “or better yet, check out my blog. Oh, wait.”

Louis throws a pillow at him and Harry bats it away, laughing unexpectedly. 

He feels unbelievably energized and jovial, remnants of adrenaline buzzing in his veins like electricity from a good fuck. He’s in such a good mood, he doesn’t even hesitate when Louis shoots him an expectant look and gestures to himself. 

He scoops him up into his arms and carries him to his small bathroom, trying to tamp down his pleased smile as he sets Louis down. Louis looks baffled by his glee but doesn’t say anything. 

Somehow, they both manage to crowd into the small shower stall together. They're touching more than they're not, sides brushing, arms bumping together, ankles tangling, and at one point, Harry's cock nudging Louis' thigh. 

He smirks when Louis shivers at the latter. Despite the fact that Louis is probably incredibly sore right now, he'd consider proposing another round but unfortunately, they don't have the time. Harry knows Liam will probably throttle him if he shows up late to yet another game night. 

Well, he'd _try_ to throttle him and maybe Harry would humor him because God knows he wouldn’t win otherwise. But even with that confidence, Harry would still prefer to avoid any friendship betrayals so he turns the faucet on and places a solid hand on Louis' shoulder, gently pushing him away from the abrupt spray of frigid water. He follows, crowding him up against the shower wall as they wait for the water to warm up. He doesn't move his hand, letting his thumb rub circles into the flushed skin of Louis' collarbone absently. 

Louis pinches his side and he hisses at the feeling of sharp nails cutting into his skin. 

"What?" he grits. 

Louis raises an eyebrow, glancing to the side disbelievingly to where a fleshlight sits mounted to the tiles. "Seriously?" he says. 

Harry smirks. "Sometimes you just need it," he shrugs, hand sliding up Louis' neck softly. He presses his thumb into the bruise he left on Louis’ pulse, feeling the erratic heartbeat beneath the pad of his finger and reveling in the way Louis' breathing hitches at the action. 

A hand reaches out and grips Harry's cock firmly, tugging quickly. Harry groans, taken aback at the action and also at the fact that he’s suddenly half-hard again. "Don't start something you can't finish," Louis hisses, glassy eyes darkening. 

His cock throbs, fingers twitching on Louis' throat. Keeping his eyes locked onto Louis', he squeezes deliberately. Louis goes rigid, letting out a soft whimper as his pulse flutters under his skin. The sound goes straight to his core, igniting the familiar burn in his veins. He steps closer, looming over Louis while the shower drones behind him. 

Louis stares up at him from under his lashes, still wet and clumped together from when Harry brought him to tears just ten minutes ago and his pretty bitten lips parted in a silent exhale. He thumbs over his slit carefully, spreading the leaking precum and smoothening the glide as he slowly encircles Harry's length with those delicate fingers and starts pulling him off. 

Harry just lets him, biting his lip and keeping his hand wrapped loosely around Louis' throat. 

Maybe Liam won't mind?

-

Thursday morning marks yet another partner assignment in Econ and yet again, he and Louis are partners. It’s not a project or anything, just a simple assignment due at the end of the period. 

It takes him a second to process that there’s no swell of frustration or dismay in his chest, no prickling of dread or frustration on his skin, and no urges to push the table over. All in all, it’s not an unwanted revelation. 

Louis doesn’t seem too bothered by it either, plopping down in the vacant seat next to Harry with his laptop and slumping back in his chair. “Let’s do this, Styles,” he says. 

Harry is wildly unequipped to handle a Louis who actually tries to work with him but it ends up not being that bad. 

In fact, they actually end up finishing the assignment _early_. Apparently, it’s a lot easier to save time when he and Louis aren’t spending every second arguing or glaring at each other. 

They send the slideshow in and then Louis makes a comment about Ethan’s impulsive new tattoo which dissolves into a discussion of Harry’s tattoos that involves far too many probing questions from Louis, including whether his fern leaves suggest overcompensation to which Harry replies that they both know there’s nothing he’s overcompensating for. 

Louis hits him with his pencil bag, scolding him for being arrogant but Harry just keeps smirking because over the past four weeks, he’s become a master of recognizing the flush that blooms across his cheeks and it’s present now. 

They talk about other things too, mostly classes and family and whether Ethan’s going to regret his decision in a few days when the self-satisfaction wears off. 

And through it all, Harry can’t stop thinking about how much he’s actually enjoying their conversation. He’s startled when class finally ends and everyone starts standing up to leave. Never did he think he’d ever be so engrossed in a conversation with Louis that he lost track of time. 

That he’d be _disappointed_ to stop talking to him. 

Zayn is leaning up against the wall when they exit the class, looking at them with an aloof satisfied smile that rankles at Harry’s insides and has his previous grin faltering. He feels caught, like he’s meant to be playing a certain role but slipped. 

He wonders then how many people saw him and Louis interacting and not fighting, how many of them saw them _getting along._ Harry isn’t so self-absorbed that he’d believe that their fellow classmates are so bored with the lecture that they’d invest their attention into his and Louis’ rivalry, but it’s not like he and Louis were ever subtle. 

Everyone knew they hated each other… but now they’ve seen something to disprove that. It shouldn’t bother him this much but he can’t help it. Louis is infuriating and he’s supposed to dislike him. 

_No one cares,_ he tells himself. But he does. 

He watches Louis walk away with Zayn, practically bouncing on each step and laughing brightly. It shouldn’t be a big deal that Harry doesn’t despise him but it feels like it. 

For the first time ever, Harry begins to realize he spent most of this school year unintentionally or intentionally making it part of his identity that he dislikes a certain person, and it’s a person that he barely knew before this past month. 

And for the first time ever, he’s beginning to realize how stupid and judgemental that was. He’s beginning to realize that maybe his hatred was never justified in the first place. And neither was Louis’. 

-

Louis stalks into Harry’s dorm, face pinched and body heaving. A cloud of citrus and peach perfume follows, seeping into Harry’s room as the boy slams the door shut behind him. He stops abruptly when he sees Harry, sprawled out on his bed and very, very naked. Harry strokes himself lazily, looking at Louis with hooded eyes. 

As predicted, Louis sputters, face turning even redder. “Why are you doing _that_ when your door is unlocked? What the fuck is wrong with you? Anyone could walk in and see-” He breaks off, gesturing at Harry as his blush grows. He shakes his head, as if to clear it. “You disgust me.” 

Harry smirks. He didn’t know he left the door unlocked but he’s not too bothered by it now. Squeezing a bit on the upstroke, he groans, thrusting into his loose fist. Louis watches silently, pink lips parting subconsciously. “Everything alright, peach?” 

Louis crosses his arms, looking miffed. “I thought these sessions were supposed to be about me?”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “We don’t have a session today. What’re you doing here?” They’ve been doing this for close to a month and a half now, well into their ninth or tenth or twelfth session. To be honest, Harry stopped counting a while ago. Maybe when it stopped feeling like an obligation. However, he’s pretty sure today is Monday which means Louis shouldn’t be here. 

“I’m frustrated,” Louis says, eyes glued to Harry’s cock as he strokes a bit more forcefully. 

Harry shifts a bit on the mattress, eyes falling shut. “What do you want me to do about that, kitten? I’m a little bit busy here.” 

Louis huffs. “Don’t make me say it.”

Harry doesn’t reply, choosing to focus on the rough glide of his cock in his hand. He already had a wank in the shower that morning but he came back from the gym feeling antsy and figured another go wouldn’t hurt. 

He hears Louis sigh. “Ugh, fine,” he says. “I need it. I need your cock.”

Harry smiles smugly, eyes still shut. “Then come here and sit on it. Or do I have to use my fleshlight?” He flops an arm to the right lazily, gesturing to his nightstand where one sits waiting. “I do want to film something later on.” 

The telltale sound of shuffling feet registers in his mind as Louis approaches the bed hesitantly. He feels the mattress sink as Louis sets a knee on it, exhaling heavily. 

Seconds later, small hands are covering his own on his cock. Harry chuckles, head tipping back to his pillow as Louis straddles his waist eagerly. Tanned, soft skin is on display when Harry opens his eyes, just how he likes. Louis looks unsure and simultaneously desperate as he carefully grips Harry’s cock. 

“I said, _sit on my cock_ ,” Harry murmurs, voice scarily quiet. Louis shudders. 

“But-” he tries before Harry cuts him off. 

“I know you’re already open because you fingered yourself earlier today like I told you to,” Harry says confidently. It’s a recent development, Harry giving Louis instructions to get himself off when they aren’t together because he doesn’t want to leave Louis hanging in terms of relaxation and satisfaction when they don’t have a session. They’re always orders not suggestions. And though he wasn’t there to witness it, he knows Louis did what he instructed. “You always do what I tell you to. Don’t you, sweetheart?”

Louis nods, looking dazed. He shifts his weight to his knees and slowly lifts up to align himself. Harry doesn’t move, letting Louis do all the work for once. He sinks down onto Harry’s cock slowly, moaning at the tight drag. 

He goes to move but Harry stills him with two firm hands on his hips. Louis falters, head snapping up. “What?”

“Mhm, don’t move,” Harry says. “You haven’t earned it yet. Been so naughty, barging into my flat without calling me first.” 

Lips parting in confusion, Louis makes a noise of discontent. “What am I supposed to do then?”

Harry shrugs, muscles feeling languid and sleepy. “I only told you to sit on my cock, so that’s what you’re going to do. Keeping me nice and warm. Alright, peach?”

Louis doesn’t respond, inhaling and exhaling heavily. 

Harry’s cock aches, desperate for some friction especially surrounded by velvet, warm heat, but Harry doesn’t give into the desire. Not yet. 

He slowly slides his hands up Louis’ warm sides, letting the heat sink into his fingers as he trails his palms up and down the curve of his waist. Louis melts under his touch, swaying dangerously at his perch. He truly is like a kitten, Harry muses. Deceptively small and soft and delicate but hiding sharp claws… And yet still helpless to touching and petting, falling pliant like putty in Harry’s hands. 

Though he’s witnessed it multiple times now, Harry is still awed by how easily Louis is rendered silent and obedient, face flushed and eyes trusting. It’s always the brattiest ones that are the most eager to please. 

He slides his hands up higher and curls them around to Louis’ chest, marveling at how his hands can cover so much skin at once. He flicks over Louis’ little nipples, hissing as Louis jolts, the movement jostling his position on Harry’s cock and making it drag oh so slightly. 

“Harry,” Louis breathes, sounding gone already. 

Harry responds by pinching his nipples again, both at once and _hard._ Louis whimpers, body tensing and stomach heaving gently. He soothes the string by circling around the darkened nubs tenderly, nails scraping his skin just a bit. “Gonna be good for me?” he asks after an extended pause. “Let me use you to get off?”

Louis whines softly, nodding eagerly. “M’good,” he slurs, insistent. 

Harry’s insides twist. “Yeah, baby, you are,” he agrees, “...most of the time.” He holds Louis steady, experimentally shifting his hips up and eliciting a strangled yelp. 

Hands land on his shoulders, sharp nails digging into his skin. “Use me like I’m a fleshlight,” Louis says, lips parted invitingly. “ _Please._ ” 

He looks so desperate for it. 

His cock throbs at the words, arousal burning deep in his veins. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “you like that? You want to be my cocksleeve? Wanna just sit there and take it?” 

Louis nods, head lolling back when Harry leans forward to suck a mark on his throat. He mouths up his neck for a bit, leaving a blooming path of bruises in his wake, and then presses his lips to his pulse. Louis’ heart flutters under his lips, erratic and helpless. 

“Okay,” he mumbles belatedly, nipping at the skin before pulling back. He fixes Louis with an unwavering stare, demanding his attention. “Fleshlights don’t move,” he says firmly. 

He receives a nod in reply, allowing him to slide his hands back down to Louis’ hips and hold him carefully as he sits up and scoots back against the headboard. They both hiss at the friction, Louis’s fingers no doubt leaving imprints when he finally pries them off Harry’s shoulders. 

Then he clasps his hands behind his back, lips sealed shut and body lax, _good._ He’s seated on Harry’s lap, looking at Harry from under his lashes with watery eyes, so earnest and submissive. 

Harry hesitates, before reaching over to the side table where he left one of his bandanas. It’s a plain red one and it’s one of his softer ones. Deciding, he grabs it and curls his arms around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer into his chest and dropping his head to suck another hickey onto the juncture of his neck and shoulder. 

Louis exhales harshly, breath fanning out in Harry’s hair and on the tip of his ear. He doesn’t react when Harry grips his wrists and carefully ties the bandana around them. He slips a finger in between to make sure there’s enough space as he ties the knot. 

He checks with Louis, murmuring a quiet, “Okay?” which receives another nod in return. However, this part is unplanned so Harry needs more than just a silent acknowledgement. He uses his free hand to grip Louis’ face by the chin, making his eyes flicker up to Harry’s. He arches an eyebrow. 

“Okay,” Louis breathes, quietly but still distinct. 

So he slides his finger out and returns his hands to their rightful places at Louis’ hips. His cock is positively aching now, throbbing with the need to fuck up into the warm heat enveloping it. Harry tightens his grip on Louis’ hips and slowly lifts him up. 

Louis tenses but doesn’t react even as Harry pulls him back down immediately after, arms flexing as he supports all of Louis’ weight. He goes slowly, muscles burning as he lifts Louis up and down, hips thrusting up in sync and making Louis go rigid. 

He’s biting his lip harshly, the flush on his cheeks spreading all the way down his chest. Harry probably should’ve gagged him but he can’t lie and say he doesn’t get some satisfaction at seeing how much Louis is struggling to stay quiet, eyes filling with tears and face pinched in an effort to hold back any sounds. He’s trying so hard-

Which obviously means Harry’s going to make it even harder. 

He plants his feet and pushes Louis back against his raised thighs, giving him something to lean against as he thrusts up harder, the new angle much deeper than before. “Gonna take everything I give you because that’s all you’re good for,” he spits. “A toy for me to get off with.”

Louis’ mouth falls open on a silent gasp, remaining wide open as Harry rams into him, abs contracting as he braces his back against the headboard for extra leverage. 

He spreads Louis’ legs wider, seeing the flesh of his thighs jiggle in tune with his movements. Louis’ smaller cock slaps his stomach on every thrust, pink and leaking at the tip- _pretty,_ just like the rest of him. 

“Little fleshlight,” he grunts, slamming up harder and hitting his prostate again. “Mine to use whenever I want. Mine to fuck whenever I want and you’ll lie there and take it because you love it- you love when I use you.” He changes angles again and finds Louis’ prostate, smirking when a whimper breaks through his lips, soft and high. 

Something he’s learned over the past few weeks is that there’s only so long Louis can go without being loud, and he’s just about reached the limit. 

It’s only confirmed as Harry, in one fell movement, curls his arms around Louis’ waist and rolls them over, Louis shrieking as his back hits the mattress. 

Harry pushes his legs up. “Hold them,” he commands, before reaching over him to grip the headboard, fingers clamping onto the wood. 

Louis obliges as best as he can with no hands, legs shaking as he keeps them spread. He gives up any attempts at suppressing noises and moans when Harry pushes back into him, dragging it out so Louis can feel every inch. 

Soon everything else fades away and Harry’s brain narrows in on its goal of chasing release, vision blurring as he pounds into Louis’ tight, wet hole. A litany of whimpers and mewls dwindle into the background as Louis shakes in an effort to keep still, body trembling and quivering. 

In the moment, he isn’t focused on Louis’ pleasure anymore than he’s focused on his own. It feels like Louis doesn’t care, only cares about being good and doing what Harry says- like he’s _surrendering_ to him. The thrill that evokes is enough to push him over the edge, slamming in as deep as he can as he comes. 

Louis goes rigid too, legs falling to either side as if he can’t keep them up any longer. 

Harry’s vision goes hazy but a prickle of awareness envelopes him and he carefully fumbles for Louis’ cock, not wanting to leave him hanging even if the point of this was his own release. His fingers brush over wetness and his mouth falls open in surprise, blinking as his vision focuses and he sees cum streaked across Louis’ chest. 

He came and Harry hadn’t noticed, too wrapped up in his own pleasure. 

“M’good,” Louis breathes, eyes shut and lips parted as his body heaves. He looks _wrecked_ , all flushed and glimmering with sweat and tears. Harry thumbs over his cheekbones gently, soothingly. 

“You are, baby,” he coos, recognizing the spaciness and knowing Louis needs touch right now. He carefully eases out of his spent hole and then turns him over, nimble fingers untying the bandana. 

His wrists are pink and raw, but not excessively so. Harry still gets up to grab lotion along with a rag just in case. 

Louis doesn’t move at all, head buried in Harry’s pillow and fingers curled into the messy sheets. His arse is on display, pink imprints of Harry’s fingers standing out proudly against his tan skin. Harry shouldn’t feel so smug about it. 

He gently rubs the lotion into Louis’ wrists and ignores his protests when he turns him back over to wipe him down. Still, there’s gratitude in Louis’ red-rimmed eyes as he watches Harry clean him up. 

It feels strange between them- almost _soft._ Neither of them are saying anything, muted breaths being the only sounds in the quiet dorm. 

It grazes at Harry’s insides in an uneasy way so he clears his throat. “Don’t fall asleep in my bed,” he says gruffly. 

“M’not,” Louis denies, but his eyes are hooded and his blinks are slowing down. 

Harry rolls his eyes, dropping the rag to the floor carelessly and sitting down gingerly. A thought appears in his head and he frowns. “Why were you frustrated earlier?” he asks. “Someone called you a brat again?” he adds in an attempt at humor. 

Louis sobers, lips curving into a frown. “You’re the only one who thinks I’m a brat,” he retorts petulantly. 

“Right,” Harry drawls, dragging out the syllable to emphasize sarcasm. “What is it then?”

“Tired,” Louis offers with a shrug. “ ‘M making the costumes for the Spring Play but Callie - she’s the director - told me this morning that she wants them to be finished a whole week earlier than what we had planned. I told her I could handle it because I know she’s stressed but…” He trails off, sighing. “And my mum just called me and told me she needs me to babysit tomorrow for three hours even though I’ve got a ton of homework but I know she’s stressed too.” His frown grows into a grimace at the explanation like he’s even more stressed just thinking about it. 

Harry blinks. He hadn’t expected Louis to give him an answer at all let alone such an honest one. Sympathy rises in him and he circles Louis’ bare ankle with two of his fingers gently, squeezing firmly to keep Louis from spiraling into his anxious thoughts. “I’m sorry,” he says honestly. 

Louis seems surprised at his honesty, blinking at Harry confusedly before swallowing. “It’s fine, I’ll get it finished if I work hard.” 

“Still sucks,” Harry says softly. 

He gets a shrug in reply and they both lapse into silence. Harry frowns as he realizes that maybe there’s more to Louis’ perpetually “bratty” attitude than he thought. It’s not to say that his stress is justification for being annoying, but it does make a pretty good explanation. It’s yet another thing about Louis he’s been wrong about. 

And really, if he thinks about it, he does seem to be the only one whose annoyance for Louis skews towards hatred rather than amusement. 

He feels a bit stupid about it suddenly, stupid that he’s the only one who doesn’t see through Louis’ loud comments or irritating actions to the person underneath. It feels like the rug has slipped out from under his feet. 

Louis is looking at him pensively, no doubt confused by Harry’s paling face. “What is it?”

“I…” His throat closes up and he just sits there helplessly, fingers still locked around the delicate skin of Louis’ ankle. He shakes his head and lets go abruptly, the area stinging at the loss of contact. “Never mind,” he whispers. 

Thankfully, Louis doesn’t call him out on his bullshit. He just sits up, mumbling worries about there not being enough time and needing to finish homework. 

Harry lets him go, watching him change and shuffle to the door. 

Louis hesitates, hand wrapped around the doorknob as he glances back at Harry shyly. “Thank you,” he says, and it comes out soft and unsure, like he doesn’t know if he should be saying it. “I… needed that.” 

“Oh,” Harry blurts, taken aback. He hadn’t expected the raw and fervent earnesty in Louis’ voice. He forces a smile, a peculiar warmth spreading in his chest. “You’re welcome.” 

With a final small nod, Louis ducks out of the room. The door clicks shut behind him and for the next minute, Harry just stares at the wood unseeingly, mind whirling with thoughts and confusion. 

Later when he sleeps, his sheets smell like peaches. 

-

“Harry, for fuck’s sake, who are you texting?” Liam asks. 

Harry stills, eyes snapping up to where Liam is looking at him half annoyedly and half confusedly. “Hmm?” 

Liam gestures to his phone impatiently. It’s Wednesday and they’re at a random cafe off campus for brunch. They do this a few times during the month - sometimes with Niall too - to catch up and just hang out. Except today Harry has maybe been a bit preoccupied. “This is the fourth time you’ve looked at your phone and grinned obnoxiously in the past ten minutes. Who is it?”

“Oh,” Harry fish-mouths, once again feeling very caught out. He glances down at the screen and his half-written text message. “Um… Louis,” he mumbles. He texted Harry a picture of him and his little sisters, their nearly identical faces on either side of Louis’ soft, happy one. 

**You guys look cute** is what he had been typing. It now seems incriminating. 

“Louis,” Liam repeats incredulously, eyes widening comically. “Louis, as in Louis Tomlinson? As in the one you hate?”

Harry opens his mouth, blushing slightly. “I… maybe ‘hate’ is a strong word…” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. 

Liam stares at him, face painted in stark disbelief. “What the fuck,” he says, “have you done with Harry Styles?”

“Ha ha,” Harry says flatly. “Look, we just came to a… mutual understanding.” That’s not the only mutual thing they’ve come to but Harry keeps that part to himself. 

“And now you’re texting each other,” Liam says. 

“Yeah,” Harry admits, “sometimes.” 

“So, you’re, like, _friends_ now?” Liam says. 

Harry glances down at the screen in lieu of responding, biting his lip nervously. Are he and Louis friends now? He thinks of how often they’ve been texting, how they even talk after class now sometimes, how at their last session Harry fucked him with a vibrator and then Louis sucked him off and afterwards they watched _Friends_ for four hours straight, and most importantly, how the thought of Louis no longer evokes a surge of rage or dislike inside him and instead, ignites something in him that he can’t quite pinpoint. Maybe, something akin to affection?

Does that make them friends? 

“Um,” Harry says helplessly, grabbing his glass of water and taking a sip to stall. “I suppose so.” It comes out more surprised than he intended, like he just had the revelation now. He did just have the revelation now. 

“This is honestly the most unexpected yet simultaneously unsurprising thing you could have told me,” Liam says after a pause. “But, kudos I guess?”

Harry blinks. “Me and Louis being _friends_ isn’t surprising?”

Liam shrugs. “You guys are more similar than you think and you’re just different enough to make that connection even better.”

“We…” Harry shakes his head. “Okay, then.”

He lets Liam change the subject beginning to vent about a shitty date he went on the other day. Harry nods and hums at the appropriate places but his mind is whirling. 

Does _Louis_ think they’re friends? 

-

On Tuesday morning, Louis texts Harry to tell him he won’t be able to make it to their session in the afternoon, accompanying it with a sad face. It should have been perfectly fine. 

Except… Louis doesn’t respond to his follow-up question about when to reschedule nor does he respond to any of the other couple (dozen) he sends throughout the day. 

He’s present in Economics but he doesn’t say a word, staring blankly ahead at Professor Hanson even when Harry tries to get his attention by waving his hands around like a fucking idiot. He gets plenty of strange looks from classmates but not a single glance from Louis. 

In other words, he’s concerned. 

He tries to tell himself that everything’s probably fine and that Louis could be having an off-day but as the hours pass and the clock hand moves to six, their usual meet up time, his resolve grows weaker. 

It’s 6:04 when Harry gets up and grabs his keys, a man on a mission. 

The drive to Louis and Zayn’s flat just makes him more restless, mind whirling with the possibilities for Louis’ weird behavior. His stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought of something being wrong, but he brushes it off. 

_Everything’s fine_ , he tells himself as he makes his way to flat twenty-eight. _Everything is completely fine. You’re overreacting. He’s fine._

Zayn opens the door on his third urgent knock, a look of pure relief overtaking his features. “He’s in his room. Please help,” he blurts before Harry can even say a word, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him forward. 

“Uh… okay,” Harry says, letting Zayn drag him further into the flat. He looks around curiously, taking in the paintings on the wall and the randomly scattered books and a bunch of little things that he instantly knows as Louis. 

The vans abandoned carelessly on the floor in the middle of the room. The soft sweater hanging on the back of a chair. The pictures featuring a troupe of young girls all wearing matching grins, beaming at the camera with familiar eyes. The fashion magazines on the table. 

Louis, Louis, Louis, and Louis.

He realizes belatedly that he’s about to step into Louis’ _room_ but doesn’t get the chance to overthink it before Zayn is shoving him forward. 

“Please fix this,” he says and then he disappears. 

Harry frowns, turning back to step inside-

He stops short, mouth dropping open. 

This is not what he expected. He steps inside hesitantly, apprehension growing as he stares and the scene in front of him doesn’t change. Blinking confusedly, he surveys the mess.

Louis is sitting cross-legged on the floor, tongue tenting out his cheek as he scribbles furiously on his notebook. His laptop and phone are both open to documents in front of him along with a bright pink pencil case that is absolutely _overflowing_ with pencils, sharpies, erasers, highlighters, and other bits and bobs. There's an array of sticky notes in a pile next to that, and then a half-empty glass of water balanced precariously on a stack of textbooks. 

On his other side is a pile of scraps of fabric in a variety of textures and colors. A pincushion, not one but _three_ measuring tapes, a bunch of pairs of sharp fabric scissors, tins of beads and lace and other embellishments, and a bag filled with dozens upon dozens of colors of threads, and who knows what else lay scattered around too. Next to Louis' bare foot is a sewing machine, needle poised over a strip of blue fabric that's been set aside. 

And in the midst of it all, Louis looks utterly _exhausted._ There are dark bags under his eyes which can be seen through his glasses and his skin is gaunter than its normal golden glow, posture hunched and tired. He looks shrunken and small surrounded by all that clutter, and not in a good way. His hair is covered by a beanie and he's dressed in threadbare sweats and one of Harry's shirts that he probably left during one of their sessions. 

Louis finally notices him when he fumbles for another pencil, having stubbed the tip of the other one from writing too hard. He startles, mouth dropping open before flattening into a grim line. "We cancelled our session today," he says, and God, even his _voice_ sounds exhausted. 

Harry shakes his head, taking a step forward. "I just came by to check on you. You haven't replied to any of my texts, even when I sent you football memes."

"I've just been... busy," Louis murmurs, looking at his surroundings and looking so distraught and lost that Harry's heart breaks at the sight. "I've got two essays due tomorrow morning and I need to finish this piece as soon as possible too because I have to go babysit my siblings for the entire afternoon and there’s also the costumes I need to work on and I can't figure out my Econ homework and I..." he trails off, looking distressed. "M'not going to be able to do it all, fuck." He drops his head into his hands, body shaking. 

"Louis," Harry murmurs, aching with the need to comfort. He moves closer and carefully maneuvers past the stuff on the floor. His mind hardens to solid resolve and determination, ignoring the whisper echoing in his mind about how a month ago he’d be glad to see Louis struggling like this. "What can I help you finish?"

Louis blinks at him confusedly. “You… what?”

Harry sighs, moving Louis’ water to a more stable surface and shoving the textbooks aside so he can sit down. “Let me help you,” he says firmly, “or you really won’t finish on time.”

“Seriously?” Louis says, and it’s void of his usual sarcasm and snark, a hint of hope bleeding through. 

“Yeah, seriously,” Harry confirms. 

Louis looks like he’s going to cry. 

He doesn’t, thankfully- the only crying Harry wants to see from him is crying from how good Harry’s making him feel. Instead, Louis starts explaining his essay prompts, telling Harry he’s already halfway through both but he’s so frustrated he can’t focus. 

Harry responds by placing two hands on Louis’ shoulders. “Look at me,” he says firmly. When Louis does, he continues. “Breathe. Do it with me.” He proceeds to guide Louis through a basic breathing exercise, inhaling for five seconds, holding for five, and then exhaling for five. 

They do it a few times until Louis stops shaking, rubbing at his eyes with a sigh. 

“Okay, here’s what you’re going to do,” Harry says slowly. “You’re going to do one thing at a time so you can actually focus without spreading yourself thin trying to multitask and you’re going to finish everything one by one.” 

“Which one first?” Louis breathes, looking desperate for Harry to tell him what to do. 

Harry swallows, feeling the need to be whatever Louis needs grow and pulse within him. “What’s due first?”

“This blazer I have to finish for a suit which has to be finished before my 9 am class,” Louis reveals. “Everything else is all settled but the stitching for this jacket is going to take a while since it’s such a detailed design.”

“Okay, do that first,” Harry decides. “You’ll feel better when it’s out of the way and plus it’s much better to be handling needles when you’re not half-asleep and the sun is still up.” He glances at the rest of the mess, frowning. “Meanwhile… I’m going to read what you have of your essays so far and see if there’s anything I can suggest to get you out of your rut. And don’t worry about Econ. I finished the assignment this morning and I can help you.”

Louis stares at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Harry says, feeling a rush of shame overwhelm him because standing here and seeing all the clutter around him, he finally realizes. 

He realizes that Louis is an exceptionally busy individual who works incredibly hard and most of all, he _tries._ He tries harder than the average person, harder than Harry even. He puts in effort and works his ass off to balance everything and put out quality assignments. 

Louis Tomlinson is _smart_ and determined and resilient and Harry has greatly underestimated him. Worse, he greatly misjudged him. 

He was wrong, so very wrong, and though he’s already apologized, he can’t help but feel terrible for making such horrible and untrue assumptions. 

“And whatever else you have to do,” he says, clearing his throat which is heavy with emotion, “we can figure it out.”

“Okay,” Louis breathes. 

“Okay,” Harry echoes. They look at each other wordlessly. 

And then they get to work. 

-

It’s eleven o’clock at night and Harry is drunk. 

Well, he’d maintain he’s only tipsy but Louis keeps giggling and saying he’s drunk and for some reason Harry really can’t argue with him when he looks so flushed and relieved. 

Louis is done with everything. Done with his homework and essays and pieces. After hours of work, he’s finally free. 

It seemed like an obvious decision when Louis offered him a bottle of wine to celebrate. That bottle of wine now lays completely empty next to another half-filled bottle which Harry picks up to pour himself another glass from, vision blurring ever so slightly. 

His blood is buzzing with alcohol, body relaxed and loose for the first time today. Zayn left to go to a poetry slam or something so it’s just them alone in the flat. Louis is curled up on the opposite side of the couch from him, looking blissed out and happy, and Harry couldn’t be more relieved about it. 

He also won’t stop thanking Harry, blinking at him with wide blue eyes and telling him how grateful he is for his help. Harry just brushes him off every time, ignoring the way his heart can’t help but swell with warmth at each instance. 

“Hey, Harry,” says Louis, voice slurring but bright and pleased. 

“If you thank me one more time,” Harry threatens, furrowing his brows slowly, “I’ll never do it again.” 

Louis just rolls his eyes, smile never faltering. “I was going to ask you a question, asshole.”

“A question about what?” he presses, suspicious. 

“About your blog,” Louis mumbles, looking shy but also curious. 

Harry is surprised but he nods, also curious. 

“What made you want to start it?” Louis asks and Harry blinks, taken aback. He hadn’t expected that question but he feels a peculiar feeling in his chest at the thought of Louis wanting to know. 

He clears his throat, blinking away the spots in his eyes. “I started it last year mostly to interact with other people in the community but then I started getting asks from other college students who were struggling with figuring stuff out and I just… wanted to help, I guess. It wasn’t a distinct realization or anything, I just sort of started writing posts and giving tips and then people would tell me that I helped them discover a part of themselves that they weren’t aware of and it felt _good._ ” He furrows his brows, feeling frustrated because he doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants to say especially when his wine-induced haziness is so distracting. 

“There’s still a lot of people who are rude about stuff like this because they don’t understand it or they believe the misconceptions and stereotypes. BDSM and kinks in general are so taboo which is so stupid because it’s just another facet of pleasure, of _sex_ which is supposed to be natural. I just want to help these people see that it’s okay to have certain preferences in bed and to want to do certain things to other people because it gives them a thrill… As long as you’re safe and you know what you’re doing of course.”

Louis is staring at him when he glances over, listening quietly but looking engaged. 

“Um,” he continues, tapping his fingers on his glass. “I dunno… I just like that aspect of it, I guess. People thank me for my blog and for helping them get comfortable with the idea of domming and being a dom and it just… makes me happy and maybe a little bit proud. I don’t know any of them personally and none of them know _me_ personally but we share this connection. S’just... nice.” He shrugs helplessly. 

“That’s… cool,” Louis says softly. 

Harry huffs. 

“No, genuinely,” Louis insists. “It’s cool that you’ve helped all these people. That’s- it’s amazing, Harry.” 

Louis sounds so earnest about it and it sends a rush of affection through him. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, eyes locking onto Louis’. They’re cloudy with alcohol but wide and bright as ever. He never realized it before but Louis has such kind eyes, all soft and round and filled with a gentleness Harry never used to notice. 

“Do you…” Louis hesitates, fidgeting with his sleeves. “Has everyone you’ve dated been into the same stuff as you too?”

“No,” Harry admits, grimacing. “I’ve only seriously dated a few people and only one of them let me be rough with her in the bedroom, but we didn’t… It wasn’t the same.” The sex wasn’t bad or anything but it wasn’t what he craved deep down. 

“But the ideal boyfriend or girlfriend for you would also be a sub?” Louis asks. 

Harry shrugs. “I mean, yeah, definitely. It’s hard though. You don’t typically meet people who’re interested in that sort of thing _naturally._ It doesn’t come up in conversation and again, everyone’s always afraid of judgement. It’s far too common that I have to choose between them. S’why I tend to have more casual arrangements, like friends with benefits.”

“Like us,” Louis offers. 

“Yeah,” Harry agrees, throat dry. _Friends_ with benefits. Did that mean Louis that sees them as friends? “It’s like… The sex is good because there’s freedom and no judgement but… It’s different when you know the person inside and out, where you’re in _love_ with them. It’s like you’re not just taking care of them because you want to, but because you need to. It's _better._ ” He blinks, ducking his head as his heart pangs. He wants that for himself, more than anything. “But it’s so hard to find. I hope one day I do.” 

Louis doesn’t respond to that, frowning at his glass with an unreadable expression. The hazy light from the lamp casts shadows over his face, lashes cutting shapes against his cheeks. 

Harry clears his throat again, suddenly feeling a lot more sober. “What about you? You’re going to find a dom boyfriend?” He ignores the uncomfortable twist in his chest at the thought of someone else taking care of Louis, of him taking his place. 

He gets an eye roll in response. “Yes, because you’ve just told me how easy it is,” he snarks. 

Cracking a smile, he stretches his legs out to nudge Louis’ ankle. When Louis raises an eyebrow, he raises his glass. “To one day finding our dream kinky significant other.”

Louis’ smile is a bit strained when he raises his own, mumbling a soft, “Cheers.”

Harry doesn’t notice, gulping down his fourth glass of wine. 

They talk a bit more before Zayn returns with pizza at midnight, generously offering Harry some. He tells himself he’s only going to take a little because Zayn clearly brought it for him and Louis to share but eats five slices. 

By then, most of the alcohol has left his system, leaving behind a pleasant thrum that will turn into a mild headache tomorrow morning- or, later today. He’s not too concerned because his hangovers are never that bad but according to Zayn, Louis is going to be suffering. 

He sees the beginnings of it when Louis insists on walking him to the door, wobbling and nearly falling over multiple times if it isn’t for Harry’s firm hand on the small of his back. 

“Thank you again,” Louis hiccups, eyes glassy and skin flushed as he gazes up at Harry softly. 

“It’s no problem,” Harry murmurs, biting his lip. He hesitates, before deciding to just say it. “We’re friends, aren’t we?” 

Louis stares up at him, wine stained lips parting. “Yeah,” he whispers, voice wavering. “Friends.” He seems to hesitate there, before leaning up quietly and wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck.

Harry stiffens before exhaling heavily, sliding his arms around Louis’ waist and bending down so Louis doesn’t have to strain too far on his toes. He noses into Louis’ soft hair, inhaling the heady smell of peaches. 

“What shampoo do you use?” he mumbles, feeling drunk again. 

Louis’ voice sounds drowsy when he replies with a simple, “Huh?”

“Never mind.” 

They don’t let go until Zayn comes to see what’s taking so long.

-

He sort of expected that this would happen. 

Louis has been too quiet in the past few days, too obedient. He also officially has a lot more time to cause trouble and mischief because he’s finally done with the costumes for the school play which will be going on for the next few weeks. Harry already promised to go at least a couple times with him, because that’s another thing they do now. 

Hang out. 

They still have sessions of course. It’s been just over two months of them already and Harry can’t help but remember that there’s only two weeks of classes left before finals and the end of the semester, two weeks and four sessions of him and Louis messing around together. Two weeks left of Econ too. 

It feels weird to acknowledge that he’s going to _miss_ it but Harry tries not to think about it too much. Besides, he and Louis are _friends_ now so it’s not like they’ll never speak to each other again. If anything it’s good that their arrangement will end soon- blurring the lines is just going to end badly. 

So, why does he feel so upset about it?

The point is that Louis has been too obliging and accommodating and Harry has been suspicious. His suspicions turn out to be correct when he goes to Econ only to realize Louis has gone back to acting obnoxiously in class. 

Laughing loudly, throwing things, not paying attention or taking any notes, and choosing to talk to Zayn and Jade who indulge him easily. Of course they do, it’s Louis. If someone’s lucky to interact with him, there’s no way they can pay attention to anything else. 

Harry can’t pay attention to anything else. 

He sits through class with a frown on his face, staring blankly at his computer screen until the single sentence he wrote down blurs into black smudges. They’re supposed to be taking notes but all Harry can do is pretend he isn’t straining to hear whatever Louis’ giggling about, wishing he’s the one who’s making him laugh like that. 

This cannot stand, he decides. 

He ends up begging Sarah for the notes during their shared shift that afternoon, but that’s irrelevant. 

-

When Louis knocks at the door, Harry doesn’t answer immediately. He continues to ignore Louis even when his knocks grow louder and more aggressive, smirking as he scrolls through Instagram. He’s not paying attention to any of the pictures he’s liking. How can he when Louis is very clearly frustrated and horny outside his door. 

But he still makes him wait. Ten minutes to be exact. 

The moment he opens the door, Louis slaps him in the chest, gaze scorching. “What the fuck, asshole?”

Harry plays innocent, grimacing apologetically. “I was showering and lost track of time,” he shrugs. 

Louis narrows his eyes, taking in his damp hair with a skeptical expression. “Oh?”

“Should’ve known putting on ABBA would just distract me,” Harry says sheepishly. He moves aside to let Louis in, biting down on his smirk. 

“I was standing there for ten minutes,” Louis grumbles, crossing his arms. 

“Sorry,” Harry says, smiling when Louis glares. 

“What’re we doing today?” he asks, clearly trying to tamp down his anger. 

“About that,” says Harry slowly, lacing his words with more apology. “We need to reschedule.”

“ _What?_ ” Louis exclaims, mouth dropping open. 

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I have a lot of homework to do, so.” 

“You _what_ ,” Louis says flatly. 

“I have a lot of homework to do,” he repeats, “and I should probably study for finals. Those start next week, remember?”

“We literally said we were going to meet up over the weekend to study,” Louis huffs, eye twitching. “Besides, you didn’t even text me. That’s what we agreed on at the beginning. You’re supposed to tell me in advance when you randomly decide to cancel a session.”

“I thought I did,” Harry brushes off, suppressing another smile when Louis clenches his fists, looking like he’s going to strangle him. “And we can still meet up on Saturday, I just want to study today. And finish my homework.”

“What homework?” Louis demands, face scrunched up. 

“Stats,” Harry answers, plopping down in his desk chair where the textbook lays conveniently, “and other things.”

“Other things?”

He makes a noncommittal noise, getting out his paper where he had already started with problems. “You can go,” he says slyly, knowing he won’t. 

As expected, he hears the sound of steps as Louis moves behind him, no doubt glowering at the back of his head. “This is some kind of punishment for how I acted today in class, isn’t it?” he snarks. 

“How were you acting today in class?” Harry plays dumb. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Bullshit,” Louis hisses, but he doesn’t say anything more, surely realizing in order to continue, he’d have to admit he was doing it intentionally. 

“S’not a punishment,” Harry adds after a beat of silence, “I’m just busy.”

Louis huffs, loud and pissed off, but Harry doesn’t indulge him. He bites back the urge to smirk, flipping through the textbook to find the right page before scribbling down the next problem he has to finish for homework.

He hears some rustling and ignores it, focusing all of his attention on his homework and inputting the correct numbers in his calculator. He maintains his pensive expression, face smoothing out to reflect his concentration on maths. 

A hand grips his knee and he nearly jumps, body going rigid. He stills, heart in his throat as that same hand slides up his thigh and dips into the inner seam of his jeans. 

_That_ _brat,_ he thinks hysterically. He’s under the table and in between Harry’s spread legs, no doubt crouching. He grits his teeth and ignores the teasing touches, fingers pressing into the buttons of the device almost aggressively. Sucking in a breath when Louis’s fingers slide higher and higher over the denim, he grunts and scoots back in the chair subtly. 

Louis follows him back, his other hand coming up to grip his knee. The plan was that he’d ignore Louis until he started begging but apparently Louis has decided to take things into his own hands. And just like that, any hope for studying and punishing Louis seems to go out the window. 

He narrows his eyes, writing down the answer he received with shaky hands. Annoyance bubbles up in him which is quickly replaced by raw desire when Louis’ fingers brush over his fly, firm but not providing the friction that Harry now desperately seeks. He’s already more than half-hard, he realizes dazedly. His cock is straining up against the denim, throbbing when Louis’ fingers trace over it nearly reverently. 

_Fuck._ “Louis,” he says warningly, hips shifting awkwardly as he aches for more pressure, more _relief._

Louis doesn’t listen. Seconds later, warm breaths are fanning out over his crotch over his jeans. There’s two layers separating Louis’ mouth from his cock but his cock doesn’t seem to get the memo. Harry stifles a groan, hand clenching around his pencil. _What the fuck_ , he thinks. 

And then Louis brushes his lips over his cock, featherlight and teasing. Harry grunts again, head tipping back on a silent gasp. Louis hums, leaning in closer and mouthing wetly over the fabric until Harry’s cock responds by releasing some precum. Harry does groan this time, pencil clattering onto the table as his hands lower to grip the edge of the wood surface helplessly. 

Nimble fingers pull the zipper down, sliding oh so slowly into his boxers before gripping his cock firmly. Harry’s hips buck up, chasing the pressure. “ _Fuck,_ ” he breathes. This is not how it’s supposed to go. Louis isn’t supposed to have the upper hand between them, _ever_. 

And yet, Harry doesn’t do anything to stop him as he eagerly tugs Harry’s jeans far down enough to take his cock fully out. 

Then Louis presses a soft kiss to the head of his leaking cock. Harry groans again, hands coming up to grip at his hair in frustration. He slouches down in his seat almost subconsciously, giving Louis better access as he licks over the slit. 

The wet pressure of Louis’ tongue on his cock has him breathing harshly, bucking forward blindly right as Louis’ lips wrap around his cock. Heart pounding irrevocably loud, Harry thrusts shallowly into the warm heat of Louis’ mouth. His abs clench with exertion, holding himself back from gripping Louis by the neck and pulling him out from under the table so he can see his hollowed cheeks and glazed eyes. 

Louis sucks him down slowly, tongue flattening out against his length and licking close to idly _._ Like this is something he does all the time, eating and sleeping and breathing and _sucking cock._

He lets out a small whimper when Harry thrusts in harder this time, vibrations enveloping his dick and feeling like heaven. Harry tightens his hold on the table edge, spreading his legs wider for Louis to crowd in closer. 

Throat contracting around his cock, Louis swallows messily before dragging his lips back up. Harry’s breath hitches as Louis inches his way back up abruptly, cock hitting the back of Louis’ throat. He can _feel_ Louis choke around his length, lips stretched wide and the slightest bit of drool dribbling out from the sides. 

Unable to help himself, he thrusts in sharply, basking in the way Louis’ body jerks and he sputters around Harry’s cock. “Good boy,” he whispers smugly, even going as far as to rest his arms behind his head lazily. _This_ is how it’s supposed to be. 

He fucks into Louis’ mouth a bit more, feeling his climax build up before stilling in his movements. Louis whines mutedly and Harry hushes him. 

“Stay still,” he orders firmly, “and be a good little cocksleeve while I finish these problems. I want to come down your throat as a reward.” He smirks when he feels Louis shudder, mouth relaxing enough so that he can wait patiently. 

Harry carefully picks his pencil back up, willing himself not to thrust into Louis’ mouth and chase his release like he desperately wants to. A delayed orgasm is much more satisfying and so is knowing Louis’ jaw will be aching for days. It’ll be difficult for Harry to hold himself back but he’s found that Louis, just him in general, is enough motivation. 

And while it’s difficult for Harry, he knows Louis is just as challenged, forcing himself to stay perfectly still with his lips completely lax as Harry’s cock lays between them, forcing himself not to suck or swallow or trigger Harry’s orgasm in any way. It’s like he’s been reduced to a toy solely for the use of getting off and Harry very much likes the idea of that. 

He slowly writes down the next problem, his entire body tense as he scribbles down the words and picks up his calculator. He’s got ten problems left thanks to the progress he made a few hours ago before Louis arrived to distract him. 

Louis remains still, clearly wanting to please him. He’s perfectly silent and obedient, nothing but the soft exhales through his nose that can be felt against Harry’s abdomen to prove that he’s still conscious. 

Harry takes his time, writing down all of his work and typing in the numbers leisurely. He’s baiting Louis, he’ll admit it. Trying to goad him into losing patience and sucking Harry off before he can stop him, but Louis isn’t falling for the trick. He’s following Harry’s instructions and giving up control. The realization sends a strange sensation of warmth coursing through his veins. 

He ignores it. 

By the time he prints down the final answer, he’s sweating profusely, itching to strip off his shirt. Louis seems desperate, head lolling to the side and bumping into Harry’s thigh but still utterly silent and compliant. Harry doesn’t waste time before pushing himself back in the chair, biting his lip when Louis’ body jerks in effort to follow. He’s on all fours now, hands flat against the carpet and big, wet eyes staring up at Harry’s with blatant yearning. 

“Tap me three times if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, waiting for Louis to nod slowly.

Cock almost excruciating, Harry thrusts in slowly, revelling in Louis’ throaty whine. He picks up the pace fast, not wanting to test the limits of Louis’ undoubtedly straining jaw when he’s already been working so hard. “You little brat,” he grunts, hitting the back of his throat. 

He reaches down and wraps his hand around Louis’ quivering throat, feeling the tremor as his adam’s apple bobs. He squeezes gently, savoring the way Louis’ resulting whine vibrates around his length. 

Then he traces a finger over the outline of his cock into Louis’ cheek before bringing his other hand down so they’re both framing his face. He marvels at how he can almost cover Louis’ entire face with one hand. Squeezing firmly, he watches as Louis’ face is squished, lips stretching around his dick. His eyes bulge out and he chokes around Harry’s length, drool trickling onto his chin. 

It doesn’t take long for him to come after that, groaning lowly as Louis greedily swallows it all up. He slides his cock out from Louis’ stretched lips, watching with hooded eyes as Louis licks his lips, trying to get every last drop. 

Despite his eagerness, some cum still spills through his lips and trickles down his chin. Harry wipes it up with his fingers before feeding it back to him silently. Neither of them speak as Louis takes Harry’s fingers into his mouth, sucking on them gently. His eyes flutter shut and his head droops forward in exhaustion. 

Harry’s heart pounds. Louis’ languid actions and slow blinks are signs that he’s dropping into subspace. A state that a sub can only reach when they’re so affected by the experience, and more importantly, when they’re so _trusting_ and _vulnerable._ He swallows heavily. 

Louis _trusts_ him. It’s a profound realization, sending a rush of affection through Harry’s insides, making him melt with his desire to take care of this beautiful boy.

He tugs Louis up and hoists him into his lap, careful in his handling. Louis sighs quietly, head nuzzling into Harry’s neck with his eyes still shut. Harry slides a hand under his shirt, splaying his fingers out against the feverish skin of his back. He rubs circles into the softness, soothing and grounding. 

Louis makes a small noise, body falling pliant under Harry’s comforting ministrations. Harry tucks him into his chest tightly, gripping the back of his neck the way he knows Louis likes. Louis whimpers softly, breaths evening out against Harry’s throat. 

He’s lulled into a state of drowsy bliss with Harry’s fingers curling into his hair, palm warm against his nape, and his own fingers digging into Harry’s shoulders almost subconsciously. 

“Did so good, peach,” Harry murmurs right before Louis seems to succumb to sleep. 

Louis has actually been very bad today, all things considered, but he served Harry so well that he could hardly be upset. Even though Louis is deep in his dreams by now, Harry still continues his tender caresses, for some reason unable to let go of Louis’ soft hair or warm tanned skin. 

Harry has a dizzying revelation. 

He doesn’t want to let Louis go. Not now and not in three weeks. He’s not talking about them being friends, because they are- they are friends. But he doesn’t want to lose this, lose Louis’ flushed face and dazed eyes and the way he gets all woozy and pliant after he comes. He doesn’t want to lose his whimpers or tears or his trust. Louis’ a completely different person behind the scenes and now that he’s peeked behind the curtain he doesn’t know if he can bring himself to let go of it all. 

So now he’s come to the realization, but he’s still got no fucking idea what to do about it. 

-

Finals week is tough. 

Harry’s always been one to get really stressed when exams come around. He studies his hardest and does well on them in the end, but the whole experience is filled with a lot of anxiety and sleepless nights. 

He’s got a bad habit of overworking himself too, always studying late into the night and then too stressed to sleep even when he does drag himself to bed. He knows he overdoes it especially since he always does well on exams but he can’t help it. He wants to do really well and the only way to control how well he does is to study hard and as much as he can. So that’s what he does. And if his quality of life suffers for seven days, so be it. 

Finals week has also always been synonymous with ramen week, as in, he pretty much survives off of ramen which is definitely not healthy but at least it’s cheap.

In fact, he’s heating up water for ramen in his microwave when he hears a knock on the door. He frowns, expecting it to be Niall and Liam, both of whom have texted Harry to take a proper break from his studying as if he’s not already wasting precious time making his dinner. 

But instead of his best mates, it’s _Louis_ standing outside the door. 

He’s dressed in sweats and a shirt that he’s pretty sure does not belong to him seeing as it hangs to almost mid-thigh. He’s also got a backpack slung over his shoulders. “Hey,” he says brightly. 

“Hey?” Harry says slowly. “It’s Wednesday?” Even then, they had their final session last week. Harry fucked him from behind and dragged it out as much as possible until Louis was sobbing and begging to come. 

And then he watched a freshly showered Louis walk out of his room and tried to quell the ache he felt deep in his bones. 

That was six days ago. 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I’m not here to fuck,” he says bluntly, pushing past him and into the room.

Harry watches in confusion as Louis flops onto his bed, kicking his shoes away and shrugging his backpack off. “Um, what are you here for then?” he asks. 

“Studying,” Louis answers, pulling out his laptop and a couple textbooks. He shoots Harry a shy smile. “Thought you might want company.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes, surprised. Warmth blossoms in his chest and he clears his throat. “Sure.”

They don’t talk that much, studying in comfortable silence to the symphony of typing and the occasional flipping of a page. Louis has made camp on Harry’s bed which is fine because Harry needs to work at his desk or else he’d never get anything done. 

He doesn’t know what it is about Louis being there, but he feels a lot less stressed and jittery. It’s like every time he spares the boy a glance, some of the weight compressing his chest eases and he can breathe a little deeper. 

By the time he finishes studying for Stats, he and Louis run through Econ flashnotes together, laughing when Louis gets too frustrated and screams into Harry’s pillow and groaning when either of them miss a question. 

Somehow, Harry finds himself on his bed again, leaning up against the headboard with Louis’ head in his lap. The light from his lamp flickers, hazy rays fanning over Louis’ eyelashes which cast shadows over his cheeks as he reads each question. 

Harry keeps almost missing his quizzing, entranced by the small freckles on Louis’ cheek and the delicate slope of his nose. _He’s so pretty,_ he thinks woefully. The prettiest person he’s ever seen, so stunning and ethereal it’s like he’s been carved by a sculptor. Maybe it’s just that he’s sleep-deprived or maybe it’s the lighting, but he’s never noticed just to what extent Louis’ beauty reached. 

And Harry is utterly ruined now that he has. 

“Harry?” Louis says, staring up at Harry with concern painted across his face. 

He blinks, shaking out of his reverie. “Sorry, what?”

“You okay? You went all spacey for a second,” Louis whispers, eyes wide and blue and so beautiful, it hurts. 

Harry swallows, clearing his throat. “Yeah, just tired,” he offers lamely. 

Louis furrows his brows. “Maybe you should take a break, H.”

“No, I’m fine,” he says, but his voice dips at the end like he’s uncertain. 

He nearly winces when Louis sits up, glorious heat leaving his thighs. _Come back,_ he thinks. 

But Louis just twists around to look at him worriedly. “You know one of the most important parts of doing well in finals is eating properly and sleeping enough, right?”

“I am,” he lies. 

Louis raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer. “I don’t believe you.”

Harry sucks in a breath, dizzy at Louis’ proximity. He wants to slide his hand to his nape and yank him closer, wants to kiss him senseless. 

God, he wants to kiss Louis so bad. 

He doesn’t realize he’s leaning forward, eyes focused on those soft lips which he’s felt on his cock and his chest and shoulders and many other places but never once against his own. He doesn’t realize until he feels Louis’ breath fan out against his face, feels that breath _hitch._ He freezes. 

But Louis- Louis is leaning in too. 

Harry’s lips meet Louis’ oh so gently and he exhales, hands coming up to cradle Louis’ jaw and tug him back into his lap. 

Louis makes a small sound which Harry swallows, slotting their lips together more deliberately. His heart pounds in his ears, drowning out everything else as Harry thumbs over Louis’ cheekbones and tilts his face where he wants it. 

They pull away after a minute, noses still brushing as they stare at each other. Louis looks disoriented and unsteady, a blush blooming on his cheeks and his eyes half-lidded but still entirely focused on Harry’s. 

Nothing but the sound of their breathing interrupts as they both lean in at once, lips sealing together. Louis sighs into his mouth, lips parting easily as Harry licks into his mouth. It’s slow and thorough and all-encompassing, seeping into Harry’s body and rendering him permanently enchanted. 

It’s strange because Harry has literally been _inside_ Louis in more ways than one. It’s almost like they’ve gone backwards, working from fucking to snogging. And for some reason, having his tongue in Louis’ mouth is much more intimate than having his cock or fingers in his mouth, or even his tongue in his arse. 

Louis whimpers softly as Harry bites down on his bottom lip, their kiss growing deeper and more overwhelming. He’s unbelievably aware of everything: the rush of his heart almost deafening in his mind, the heat emanating from Louis’ body and bleeding into his, the warmth of lips sliding together like velvet and the barest hints of Louis’ strawberry chapstick lingering on his taste buds, the slightly painful way he’s digging his fingers into Harry’s shoulders, like he never wants to let go, and of course, every little gasp and hushed whimper that spill from Louis’ lips like spun sugar. Harry takes them all and stores them away in the deepest part of his heart where all of his yearning and want pulses like a living thing. 

He feels drugged, mind spinning in blissful circles and veins burning with lust and adrenaline. It’s like his body is running on pure instinct as his hands skirt down Louis’ sides before slipping under his shirt and settling in the dip of his waist, his outstretched fingers spanning so much of his torso it makes him feel almost wild. His hands burn against warm sunlit skin, feeling tremors wrack Louis’ body as he lets Harry guide him into laying on his back. 

Harry is over him, around him, intertwined with him, pressing him into the couch with steady hands and greedy lips. He steals the breath from his lungs, the beat of his heart, and the taste of his tongue and gives up his own in return. 

Their desperate kisses gradually ebb into unhurried brushes of lips and slides of tongues, Louis’ fingers weaving into his hair and Harry’s pressing into his ribs. Harry doesn’t think he ever wants to stop kissing Louis unless it’s to pull his clothes enough so he can feel his feverish flushed skin against his own. 

Louis has started squirming underneath him, hips rocking forward subtly, in search for friction and pleasure. _He needs me,_ he thinks reverently. _He wants me._

A loud ring breaks through the spell and they both freeze, springing apart. Harry sits up, fumbling for his phone with clumsy fingers. He doesn’t end up finding it which is fine because it’s actually Louis’ phone that’s chiming. 

Louis’ lips are pink and ruined when he croaks out, “Hello?” into the phone. 

Harry watches those gorgeous lips dip into a frown as Louis listens to the other end. “I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Louis murmurs, eyes flickering to Harry’s apologetically. “Bye, Z.”

“Zayn?” Harry asks. 

“Yeah, he forgot his key when he went out and now he’s waiting at the door and complaining about how hungry he is,” Louis explains, rolling his eyes. “I have to go help him.”

Harry nods. “Yeah,” he whispers. 

Louis’ hands are quivering as he stuffs his books and laptop back into his bag, letting Harry walk him to the door with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“See you on the other side,” Harry whispers, leaning up against the door frame with a small smile.

“See you,” Louis echoes, looking up at him with soft eyes. He looks so beautiful standing in the middle of the hallway in his oversized clothes with flushed cheeks as he stares at Harry with stars in his irises and fidgets adorably with his backpack strap. 

_Baby,_ he thinks. It’s not really a surprise when he can’t help but lean in for a final kiss. Louis’ eyes widen but flutter shut right after, leaning in too. 

Two loud gasps interrupt before Harry can seal their lips together. They both jump, turning to see a shocked Niall and Liam gawking at them. Niall has a takeout bag from Harry’s favorite Greek place in his hand and Liam’s carrying their newly bought (potentially _re_ -bought, the jury’s still out on that one) _Pulp Fiction_ DVD. 

For a moment they all just look at each other. 

Niall speaks first. “Harry Edward Styles,” he shrieks, pointing an accusing finger at them. “You have got a lot of explaining to do!”

-

Much to Niall and Liam’s disappointment, Harry’s confession is very underwhelming. His “confession” meaning a vague admission of how he and Louis have been messing around for a bit (he’s not sure he can handle two major reveals in one night) and how today is the first time they’ve ever kissed. 

And how he really doesn’t want it to be the last. Because yes, he’s caught feelings and he maybe sort of kind of wants to be Louis’ dom boyfriend and the only one to kiss him and fuck him and spoil him with attention whether it’s the punishing kind or dating kind. 

But he has no idea how to tell him that.

After they watch _Pulp Fiction_ and right before they leave, Niall makes him swear to at least talk to Louis about the kiss and what it meant for them. Harry makes the promise and he intends to keep it. 

-

He does not keep it. 

The rest of finals week passes by extraordinarily slow yet Harry doesn’t see Louis once. He also doesn’t talk to him once, or _at all._

To be fair, they do text. Louis texts him good luck before every single one of his exams and Harry does the same for him. Harry never brings up the kiss like he vowed to, but to be fair, neither does Louis. It’s like it never happened. They just continue texting like friends and Louis even checks to see if their next session is still happening next Tuesday. Harry confirms the date and suppresses the urge to type and send, **yes, but how about this time i take you out before i put it in you?**

Everything is technically fine, but Harry doesn’t want just fine. Not when he can’t stop thinking about that night, can’t stop thinking about _more._ The memory of Louis’ lips against his lingers like a ghost, phantom touches leaving imprints that Harry is sure will never fade away. 

And now it’s Sunday. Harry is officially finished with his exams and unofficially finished with his third year of university and so are Niall and Liam who insist on celebrating by going clubbing. With Louis and Zayn. 

Perhaps Niall (or maybe it was Zayn) is more devious than he ever gave him credit for. 

Harry was dead set on declining when he found out but they wouldn’t take his no for an answer, claiming that he was just going to sulk alone in his room and maybe jerk off while trying not to think about Louis. Whether or not those had been his exact plans is not important. 

But he begrudgingly lets his friends drag him out, telling himself he can always avoid Louis for the entire night and drown out his sorrows with tequila. 

He tells himself that, but also knows the moment Louis spots him from where he sits with Zayn at their reserved booth and beams brighter than the sun itself that there’s no possible way he could ever ignore Louis Tomlinson. He couldn’t do it all year and he sure as hell can’t do it now. 

Louis stands up and immediately barrels into Harry for a hug, already swaying on his feet and glassy-eyed from whatever fruity drink he’s got clutched in his hand. Harry steadies him gently, forcing down the desire curling in his stomach. 

He exchanges pleasantries with Zayn too but ultimately gets pulled into Louis’ drunken giggles and pleads to go dance. 

The floor is crowded with throngs of moving people, a mess of body parts bumping together and skin brushing skin as the strobe lights above them glare unforgivingly. The air is thick with alcohol, sweat, weed, and other indistinguishable smells. Harry finds himself wishing he and Louis were in his room alone where the only scent he’d inhale is the smell of peaches.

Louis stops in the middle of the floor, standing up on his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck.

Harry swallows at the close proximity, remembering the taste of strawberry chapstick and tongues sliding together. Still, he’s helpless but to place his hands on Louis’ hips and hold him close. When he breathes in deep enough, he can catch the smallest hints of sweetness with the slightest bit of tanginess in Louis’ hair. 

He holds onto that as they sway together. 

Around them, couples are grinding dirtily into each other but Harry only envies them for their distinctions as couples. Besides, he knows that if he asked or even if he didn’t - even if he just turned Louis around and started rutting into him, Louis would go along with it without a second thought. But that’s the exact issue. Harry doesn’t want him to oblige because that’s their dynamic and that’s what he’s _supposed_ to do. 

That’s his biggest fear about what happened Wednesday night- that Louis only kissed him because he thought it was just another facet of their arrangement. That he did it because Harry thought it would benefit him and not because he’s been dreaming about it for weeks. 

He wants Louis to want his heart as much as he’s been wanting his body. 

And he’s pretty sure Louis doesn’t and won’t ever want him like that. It doesn’t stop him from pretending, pretending as Louis nuzzles into his neck and sighs contentedly that he could have this all the time. That it does happen all the time. 

Eventually it becomes too much. The yearning fills up Harry’s insides, heavy and thick like tar. It weighs him down and suffocates him, lungs contracting and shrinking until he gasps out that he wants a drink. 

Louis doesn’t seem to notice his internal turmoil, nodding and linking their arms as they push through the masses of bodies pressing much too close. Harry’s ears are ringing by the time they sit down at the counter. He orders his tequila and misses Louis’ order entirely, the ringing growing into a deafening buzz. 

He’s pretty sure Louis asked him something but he missed that too, blinking helplessly while Louis looks at him with barely concealed concern and confusion. Managing to let out a small _I’m fine,_ he takes the drink handed to him and immediately gulps down half of it, vision blurring as his throat burns. 

Louis looks even more alarmed, small hand flattening against his chest. Harry wonders dazedly if Louis can feel his heart pounding through the material of his thin white shirt. 

“Harry,” Louis murmurs, but his next words get cut off as a stranger appears next to them. 

“Louis!” he exclaims, his smile blindingly bright. 

Harry frowns, brows furrowing as he takes in the stranger’s broad figure, shaggy blonde hair, and sharp blue eyes. 

Louis looks surprised. “Dylan, hi.”

“So crazy, I was just thinking about you,” the stranger - Dylan - says, shuffling closer and placing a hand on Louis’ shoulder.

Harry tracks the movement, eyes narrowing on their point of contact and resisting the urge to physically move it away. 

Louis looks taken off guard, staring at Dylan with wide eyes. “Uh…”

“I’m Harry,” he interrupts, holding his hand out and pasting on a smile.

If Dylan sees the strain in his voice, he ignores it, shaking Harry’s hand enthusiastically. Harry would be lying if he said he didn’t squeeze much harder than he usually does. 

“I saw the play last night,” Dylan grins, leaning in closer. Harry swallows down his annoyance and burns it away with another sip of tequila. “Your costumes were brilliant!”

Louis _blushes_ and Harry tightens his grip on his drink, fingers pale against the cloudy glass. “Thank you.” he says shyly, looking proud and bashful exactly how he looked when Harry told him the same thing last week. 

_I used more words though,_ he notes bitterly. 

He tunes out Dylan’s next sentence, choosing to down another few gulps of his drink and glare at the counter. He’s jealous, he knows. It’s scorching through his veins and festering in his stomach and clawing up his throat, ready to spill out in anger. 

Who the fuck is Dylan anyway? 

As he secretly listens to their conversation, he finds out that he’s one of Louis’ fellow fashion classmates and not only are they _partners_ frequently, but they also spend a lot of time together outside of class. With other people in their course, but together nonetheless. 

Harry’s jealousy grows, sprouting and curling into a pulsing ball of red hot envy and possessiveness. He’s got no right to feel like this, he knows, but he can’t help the claim he feels over Louis.

Weeks of controlling his pleasure and providing it afterwards, of putting him in his place and rewarding him, and of taking care of him in the most intimate way possible… Harry feels protective of their arrangement and of Louis. He feels protective of the connection they’ve established. 

He’s thinking this right as Dylan leans even closer with confident eyes. “I was thinking now that finals are over, you and me could maybe go for-”

Harry can’t hear the rest. He stands up abruptly, room spinning around him as he mutters something about feeling sick and stalks away.

Liam looks sad when Harry slides into the booth and places his shaking hands on the table, telling him he has to leave and that he and Niall - who’s out dancing or playing darts or making friends out of strangers somewhere - should stay and have fun. 

He feigns sickness when asked, the task not difficult with considering the nausea twisting in his stomach. Liam looks concerned but nods, making Harry promise to update if he feels worse. 

The night is cold when he steps out of the club, hands shoved in his pockets and gasping in the fresh air. Slowly, his lungs fill again and he can breathe. He stands there for a few minutes, vision sharpening as he sobers and shuddering when another wave of spite and resentment for Dylan overtakes him. 

The drive back to campus is dead silent. He drives himself crazy thinking about Louis’ answer, about where they’ll go, who they’ll see, what they’ll talk about. While he does all of the things Harry should be doing instead. 

_Louis is not yours_ , his brain says. But his heart pangs contradictingly. _He is, he is, he is_ with every beat until it’s drowned out the sounds of everyone around him and triumphed even his rationality.

-

Harry is in the middle of packing when he hears a knock at the door. 

For a moment, he’s certain he imagined it. It’s Tuesday afternoon and a quick glance to his phone confirms that it’s 6 pm too, but- but they don’t have any sessions left. And even then, why would Louis still want to show up? 

The jealousy that has remained since Sunday night burns unforgivably, bitterly wondering if Louis and Dylan have gone on their date. 

Another knock disrupts his ugly thoughts and he gets up slowly, breathing in deeply as he curls his fingers around the knob and opens the door. 

Louis smiles shyly, dressed in joggers and an Arctic Monkeys shirt. He’s got his hands clasped behind his back and his hair is soft and damp. He looks as soft as he always does when he comes to Harry. 

It makes his heart feel heavy. 

“Hey,” he says belatedly, clearing his throat awkwardly. “What’re you doing here?”

Louis peers around him, frowning when he sees the bags on his bed and the floor. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

Harry glances back at them too, nodding. “Yeah, tomorrow night.” He shrugs. “I’m going home for the summer but Niall, Liam, and I are looking for flats for next year.” They asked him if he’d want to move in with them last night actually and Harry, after mulling it over for a while, agreed. He’d have to figure out how to remain discreet about his blog, or better yet, how to just tell them, but in the end, he just wanted to try something new. 

He’s realized over the past few days that he’s missed out on a lot of things because he’s been too stubborn to give them a chance. 

“That’s cool,” says Louis quietly. He looks unsure and timid, but not in the way Harry’s used to. 

“Is everything okay?” Harry asks worriedly. 

“Yeah, I… I was just wondering if you wanted to… do something,” Louis blushes, ducking his head. 

Harry’ lips part. “Like… another session?”

Louis hunches his shoulders in a half-shrug. “We never did reschedule for that one day,” he says, “and you said we’d always reschedule.” 

“Oh,” says Harry. “I did.” He steps aside awkwardly so Louis can come in, shutting the door behind them gently.

“I also think we should talk,” Louis says, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. 

Harry stills. Louis thinks they should _talk._ A thousand possibilities race through his mind but they all slowly morph into the same one. Louis doesn’t have feelings for him. He was weirded out by their kiss. He said yes to Dylan and they’re going on a date in a few days but he wants one last go of their arrangement which is why he showed up. 

This is the last time, Harry thinks hysterically. This is the last time he’s going to see him naked and get to touch him and hold him and pretend that he’s his. There’s no way he’s going to let a talk disturb that. 

He flips like a switch. “No talking until after, take off your clothes.” His voice is steady and firm, but it trembles in his chest. 

Louis opens his mouth like he’s going to disobey but thinks better of it, hurriedly taking off his shoes. 

Harry doesn’t watch him undress, doesn’t want to when he knows it’ll just make him wish he could undress him himself. Instead, he looks around. He could technically move the stuff off of his bed but he’s too jittery and restless, adrenaline pumping through his veins and arousal growing in his stomach because he knows he’s going to be inside Louis very, very soon. 

His eyes fall on a newly freed expanse of wall where he took down a few posters. Biting his lip, he grabs some lube. He hesitates, almost picking up a condom too but deciding against it. Doing it bare might make it much more intimate but Harry just needs to pretend, needs to pretend Louis is his to fill up with no barriers. 

He strips down to his briefs, the cool air a sharp contrast against his feverish skin. He sits down on his desk chair and pats his lap, helping Louis climb onto him and then immediately attaching his lips to his pulse, sucking harshly. 

Louis whines, clutching Harry’s biceps tightly. 

It feels like there’s a clock ticking down and buzzing in Harry’s ears as he pours some lube onto his fingers and doesn’t bother warming it up before sliding the first digit into Louis’ hole. 

He jolts, head dropping to Harry’s shoulder as he exhales. 

Harry fingers him quickly, sliding in a second finger and scissoring them, stretching him out. He normally drags it out a lot longer, wanting to savor the sounds that Louis lets out and the way he quivers in his arms, but today he can’t. Today he’s desperate.

And _angry,_ so angry. 

When he’s up to three fingers, he seeks out Louis’ prostate, still sucking bruises onto his throat. He wants Louis to feel them tomorrow, feel them and see them whenever he looks in the mirror, wants to make him remember. 

Make him remember how good Harry always made him feel, how good he gave it to him, make sure he’ll never forget that Harry’s the only one who can make him feel this way. 

Louis jerks when he finds it, crying out.

Harry stalls a bit longer, pumping his fingers in quick and rough. Then he slides them out and hoists Louis up, letting him lock his legs around his waist as he staggers to the wall. 

He pushes Louis against it a lot more aggressively than he normally would, knocking the wind out of him. But he doesn’t complain, tugging Harry closer. 

Shoving his briefs down, he lets Louis slick him up, breathing harshly into his shoulder as he presses his palms flat against the wall. 

“Color?” he grunts, voice shot through. 

“Green,” Louis rasps, words laden with an unknown emotion. 

He lines up, using an arm to hitch one of Louie’ legs up for easier access as his cock brushes against his hole. He eases in slowly, not bothering to let Louis adjust before pulling out and ramming back in again. 

Louis goes slack, mouth gaping open as Harry carves out a brutal pace.

His fingers dig into Harry’s shoulders excruciatingly, leaving imprints that he’ll stare at tomorrow morning, wishing and wanting and regretting. 

The sound of skin slapping skin and Louis’ back thumping against the wood is nearly drowned out by the pounding of his heart, blood rushing to his ears as he thrusts up again and again.

He rams in particularly hard, ears ringing at Louis’ strangled whine. It’s half pained and half pleasured but Harry misses the former, caught in a state of desperation and blinding rage.

“Harry,” Louis gasps, nails cutting into Harry’s skin as he hits his prostate. His cock is trapped between them, hard and aching. “I’m-”

“Don’t,” Harry grunts. “Not until I say you can.”

He keens as Harry rams up into him again, cutting off any possible reply. Harry sinks his teeth into Louis’ shoulder, eliciting a scream and tasting metallic blood on his tongue as he speeds up. 

“You think anyone could fuck you like this?” he growls, mouthing messily at the sting he inflicted. “That _Dylan_ could fuck you like this?”

“ _What!_ ” Louis chokes as Harry jams his prostate again. “Wait, Harry-”

Harry doesn’t hear him, lost to the madness of his mind. “He could never give it to you like this. No one can. Only me, only I can give you what you need.”

“Harry,” Louis gasps, squeezing his shoulders. “Harry, wait-”

“I’m the only one who can take care of you like this,” Harry growls. “No one else can make you feel like this. No one can even come close.”

“Stop,” Louis gasps, tapping his shoulder. “Red, red-“

But Harry doesn’t hear, the roar of his heart drowning out anything and everything. “He can’t have you,” he chokes out, panting. “He can’t.” He’s so close, so close-

“Grapefruit!” He screams it, loud and forceful and pulling the rug out from Harry’s feet. 

The words cut through Harry’s haze like the sharpest blade. He goes rigid, nearly dropping Louis due to his shock. Shock and then _horror._

Louis-

He used the safe word. Louis used his safe word. Harry pulls out with a strangled noise, heart slamming against his chest. He sets Louis down abruptly and stumbles back, horrified at himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, distress growing as it registers in his head. Louis used his safe word. Louis used his safe word because he didn’t feel safe. “Oh my god, Lou, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Louis says, looking wide-eyed from where he’s slumped against the wall. He’s covered in marks and there’s still blood trickling out of the wound _Harry_ put on him. Harry hurt him. Harry made him feel unsafe.

“It’s not,” Harry shakes his head, arms shaking. And if his embarrassment wasn't already enough, he feels tears forming in his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he breathes, voice wobbling. 

This has never happened before. No one has ever had to use their safe word with him. The fact that the first is Louis, beautiful and sweet Louis, makes him want to throw up. 

Louis gets onto his feet shakily and that’s when Harry realizes he came, streaks of white across his chest. He came even though Harry told him not to, which he’d never do unless he couldn’t help it, which means Harry made a mistake. Harry messed up. Harry ruined everything. “Harry,” he says cautiously, reaching out. 

Harry moves back, hands shaking. “No, no, Louis, I hurt you. I hurt-”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Louis interrupts, stepping closer and closer. “I used it because of what you were saying not because you hurt me.”

 _What you were saying._ Mortification burns through him. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. “Fuck, that was so out of line. I’m so sorry, Lou.”

“No, that’s not-” Louis cuts off, huffing. “I said no, okay.” 

“And I didn’t listen,” Harry babbles. “I wasn’t listening. I didn’t take care of you. I broke the number one rule. I didn’t keep you safe.”

“You do keep me safe,” Louis insists, looking surprised. “That’s not what I mean-”

“I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore,” Harry interrupts stiffly. “I took advantage of my power and broke your trust.”

“You didn’t,” Louis argues. “Harry, listen.” 

Harry stills at the exasperation in Louis’ voice. So familiar yet out of place. “How- How can you be so calm about this?”

“I don’t know if calm is the right word,” says Louis slowly. “But- Harry, I’m not mad. You didn’t do anything horrible.”

“I didn’t listen,” Harry murmurs, shaking his head. “You said red and I didn’t-”

“But you listened when I said my safe word,” Louis interrupts, “and that’s the important part.”

“A safe word is just a precaution. I never wanted you to be forced to use it,” Harry breathes, ashamed and disgusted with myself. “I made you feel unsafe.” 

“No one has made me feel safer than you,” Louis says firmly. It sinks into his skin slowly, echoing in his mind. 

His mouth drops open in shock. “But…”

“Harry, I said _no,_ ” Louis repeats, “as in, I said no to Dylan’s offer. I don’t want to date him and I definitely don’t want him to take care of me the way you do.” 

The words reverberate in the room and Harry is stunned silent. “You…. what?’ he breathes. What does that mean?

Louis just bites his lip, getting embarrassed. “Last year I had Digital Photography with Liam Payne,” he says softly. 

Harry blinks, confused at the sudden topic change. They’re both standing there completely naked, Harry’s cock having softened and Louis unbothered by the cum drying on his stomach. 

“And I started to notice how after every class,” Louis continues, “there was this boy who’d be waiting outside for him so they could go get lunch together.”

“I…” Harry trails off. Louis is talking about _him._ Sophomore year him to be exact. “What?”

Louis is blushing now, clearing his throat before continuing. “I may have, um, been intrigued about this attractive stranger and I may have possibly looked forward to seeing him after class even though he didn’t know I existed and I didn’t know anything about him.”

Harry’s mouth falls open. 

“And _maybe_ , when I realized he was in my Economics class back in September, I panicked. When he asked me to borrow a pencil, I snapped at him.”

“Louis,” Harry breathes, a peculiar feeling twisting his stomach into knots. 

“We got off on the wrong foot,” Louis continues, looking sheepish, “and I didn’t help make it better. I kept being annoying in class to try and get his attention.” He ducks his head. “I did get his attention but not the kind I wanted.”

Harry rubs at his wet eyes helplessly. “You…” He shakes his head, stunned. “Oh my god, Louis.”

“Before you say anything, let me finish,” Louis pleads. He grabs a random towel from Harry’s bed and wraps himself in it, covering his lower half. “I was mean to him because he was mean to me, and slowly, I did grow to resent him, but it was more resentment towards the fact that I couldn’t stop wanting his attention- that I couldn’t stop wanting his reactions. And…” his voice dips to a whisper, “when I found his blog, I saw an opportunity.” 

“Louis,” says Harry helplessly, “are you joking?” _Please don’t be joking,_ he thinks, a wild and profound hope rising in his chest. 

“I’ve never been more serious,” Louis says weakly. He takes a tentative step closer, looking up at Harry from under his lashes. “Were you jealous of Dylan?”

Harry swallows, taking his own step closer. “Yes,” he admits hoarsely, voice lowering. 

“Why?” Louis asks, hope shining in his eyes, mirroring Harry’s own. He takes another step forward and suddenly they’re less than a foot apart. 

“Because,” Harry starts, reaching his hands out to cradle Louis’ face tenderly, “I want you to be mine. Only mine.”

Louis exhales, swaying forward almost subconsciously. His own hands come up to wipe the stray tears away from under Harry’s eyes. “I want to be yours. Only yours. I already am.”

Harry kisses him. 

He swallows Louis’ soft sigh, tilting his head up for easier access as he licks into his parted lips. The remaining distance between them vanishes and so does Louis’ towel and they’re kissing with skin against skin. 

Louis pulls away for a moment. “I’m enjoying this very much,” he says, panting. He looks dazed, face flushed and eyes half-lidded. Harry wants him so bad it hurts. “But, um.” He gestures down to his chest. 

“Oh, yeah, shit,” Harry says, already going to grab a rag. He kneels on the floor and cleans Louis up gently, wiping away the cum and also the excess blood from his shoulder. He winces at the latter but Louis just tells him shyly that he didn’t mind. He finishes by pressing a kiss to his navel, lips lingering to feel the soft rise and fall as Louis breathes. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs into the skin. 

“ _Harry,”_ Louis admonishes, “I already said-”

“No, I have to say it,” Harry interrupts, settling his hands on Louis’ hips gently. “I wasn’t in the right mindset- I was angry and distracted and that’s not okay. I have a responsibility to take care of you and I didn’t do that today. Instead, I _endangered_ you. That’s breaking the contract.”

“I forgive you,” Louis says easily. “I know you’ll never do it again.”

“I won’t,” Harry promises, pressing his forehead into Louis’ stomach and nuzzling into the small pudge. “And I’m sorry for judging you and being mean to you for all these months.” 

Louis sighs, small hand coming down to scratch lightly at Harry’s scalp and play with his hair. “I’m sorry for provoking you all those times. I may have had a crush but it was immature of me to try and get your attention like that. I should’ve tried to make peace and start anew but instead I just played into the idea you had of me being annoying.”

“I’m sorry for having those ideas in the first place,” Harry whispers. “They were all wrong.”

“I’m sorry for threatening to blackmail you,” Louis says shyly, looking a bit distressed when Harry glances up at him. “I… I hope you know that I was never actually planning on exposing you. I wouldn’t- I _couldn’t_ do that to you.”

“I know,” Harry whispers. “I knew even then.” It’s true. As low as Harry’s opinion of Louis had been, he knew Louis isn’t the type to cross the line like that. 

“I’m still sorry,” Louis mumbles, “and I’m also sorry because when I first found your blog, I dismissed it and what it meant to you. But now I know how wrong I was, how much it means to you and your followers. You help people, Harry, and I think it’s amazing. _You_ are amazing.” 

Harry trails his lips up Louis’ chest, feeling him shudder beneath him. He stands up slowly, lips brushing up Louis’ throat and his fluttering pulse to his mouth. “ _You’re_ amazing,” he murmurs against his lips, tugging him closer. 

Louis surrenders to him, trusting him even after Harry almost shattered it. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck, locking his legs around his waist when Harry hoists him up. 

All the folded clothes and empty half-filled bags get pushed off the bed carelessly as Harry lays Louis down carefully, never once breaking the kiss. 

He’s drunk on it already, the taste of chapstick (oranges this time) and the smell of peaches heady and overwhelming his senses. The feeling of Louis’ warm, smooth skin against his intoxicating him. His cock is aching now, reeling from the loss of an orgasm earlier and desperate for release, but he ignores it in favor of memorizing the shape of Louis’ lips. 

Kissing, Harry believes fervently, is now his favorite thing to do. Or perhaps, kissing Louis. He can’t stop even as Louis begins whimpering and pleading, small cock fattening up against Harry’s leg. He slots a thigh in between Louis’ leg, giving him something to rut up into. 

“Harry,” Louis gasps, fingers curling into Harry’s biceps tightly. 

“You came when I told you not to earlier,” says Harry, voice gravelly. Obviously, he can’t fault Louis for that when he was the one who wanted to stall, but he’s slipping back into his role and all disobedience must be punished. 

Louis knows it too but he seems eager, squirms growing in intensity under him. 

“I think you should give me two more to make up for it,” Harry murmurs, biting down on Louis’ bottom lip. It elicits a whimper, hushed and going straight to his cock. 

“Okay,” Louis whispers, sounding out of it.

“Okay?” Harry repeats, a bit more careful after what happened. With his first one added, Louis will have come three times total to oblige which will be difficult. They’ve done it before but he still wants to make sure. “Color?”

“Green,” Louis says, pecking him on the lips soothingly. “I trust you,” he says softly. 

The words make him shiver, slotting their lips together again as he carefully lines back up, spreading Louis’ legs and telling him to keep them there. 

He’s still open and loose enough for Harry to meet little resistance as he eases in but he goes slow just in case. 

And now that he knows he’s allowed to, Harry can’t stop talking. “You’re so good for me,” he murmurs into Louis’ lips, carefully pinning his wrists above his head with one hand. “So good for me, baby. So beautiful.”

He keeps up the praises and compliments as he slides out and then in again, firm but slow. It’s the exact opposite of earlier, more intimate and tender. 

Harry’s hand is reverent as he smooths it down the side of Louis’ face and cradles his jaw. He licks into his mouth slowly, still thrusting in deeply at a measured pace. “You always have my attention,” he whispers into his lips, like it’s a secret. 

Louis whimpers, shuddering when Harry speeds up a bit. His wrists are still restrained in Harry’s hand, twitching as Harry changes angles and rams in more forcefully. 

He slides a hand down Louis’ chest, pausing to flick his nipples teasingly and revelling in the way Louis cries out, arching up into him. He takes hold of Louis’ prick, jerking him off in tune with his thrusts. “Give me the first one,” he says. “C’mon, kitten.”

The way Louis’ head lolls back in bliss, his eyes flutter shut, and his body goes rigid before falling slack as he comes is something Harry wants to see every day for the rest of his life. He fucks him through it, letting go of his wrists so he can run both hands down his sides soothingly. 

Louis is trembling, a flush blossoming down his chest. Harry trails his lips down the expanse of it before sealing their mouths together, marveling at the sheer privilege that he’s allowed to do that now. 

He speeds up, his own orgasm approaching soon. He wants Louis to come twice though, maybe not first but at the same time. He reluctantly breaks their kiss in favor of stuffing three fingers into Louis’ mouth, jamming them back towards his throat. 

As always, Louis jolts and whines, loving the feeling of being constrained like that, of being filled up by Harry in two places. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been purposely being a brat all year to get my attention,” he rasps, hitching one of Louis’ legs higher so he can slide in deeper and deeper. “Just a needy little whore for me, aren’t you?”

Louis chokes around his digits, throat contracting against his fingertips. His eyes are brimming with tears and there’s some drool trickling out from his mouth and onto his chin. He’s the most beautiful person Harry has ever seen. 

He feels Louis’ cock between them, pressing forward and rubbing against it as he continues fucking in. “Want me to put you in your place when you’re acting out. Don’t you, peach?” he grunts, slamming into him. Louis jerks, letting out a strangled cry. _There,_ he thinks. 

Harry maintains the angle, speeding up. “Need me to shut you up with my fingers or my cock when you’re being a brat.” He takes his free hand and wraps it around Louis’ neck, thumb digging into his pulse and feeling his heart pound against the pad of his finger. “Lucky for you,” he says, pressing down firmly on his throat as he rams in as deep as possible, “there’s nothing else I’d rather do.”

He comes first and Louis right after, lips parted on a silent scream. It’s just a trickle but it counts. He came three times because Harry told him to, because he wanted to be good for him. 

Harry slides his fingers out and cradles his face gently, cutting off his pained sounds and kissing him through it. 

Louis thrashes, body twitching from exhaustion and chest heaving for air. “‘Arry,’ he rasps, squirming from oversensitivity. 

“Shh, baby, I’ve got you,” Harry coos, pulling out with a wince. He grabs one of his random shirts that survived his frantic efforts to clear the bed and uses it as a rag to wipe him off. Louis has gone completely lax, close to asleep by the time Harry’s cleaned him up. 

Harry doesn’t disturb him, knowing he’s given him everything he has just because Harry asked for it. His heart swells at the thought. 

He grabs a water bottle and coaxes him into a sitting position so he can drink, body leaning entirely onto Harry and eyes shut tiredly. 

“Good boy,” he praises, thumbing over Louis’ wet cheekbone. “ _My_ boy.”

“Take me to dinner first,” Louis mumbles, words slurring together. He’s smiling though, pressing it into Harry’s chest shyly. 

Harry’s heart pangs at the cuteness. How is it possible for one person to be so perfect? 

“I will,” he says belatedly. “I’m going to wine and dine you, treat you right, I promise.”

And this is one he knows he’ll keep. 

“M’sleepy,” Louis whispers. 

“Then sleep, kitten,” Harry murmurs, gently laying Louis back onto his bed. “Stay here,” he adds. The _with me_ goes unsaid. 

He moves to get up and Louis grabs his arm weakly. “You too,” he slurs, eyes half-lidded and glazed like he’s trying his hardest to keep them open. 

“I will,” Harry consoles. “I’m just going to move some of this stuff and turn on the fan. I’ll be right there, baby.”

Louis nods dazedly, eyes fluttering shut. He turns onto his side, curling into a small ball and snuffling quietly. 

Harry’s pretty sure his heart will burst with affection one of these days but for now, he pulls the sheets over Louis and tucks him in carefully, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Then he starts picking up his discarded clothes and refolding them, a wide grin painted onto his face. 

When he’s finished, he slides into the bed and fits himself to Louis’ back, nosing into his hair and inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of peaches. 

-

In the morning, Harry wakes up with a mouth full of hair and his arms full of Louis. And a text from Niall saying: **Zayn told me Louis didn’t come home last night. Congrats :)**

Louis snorts when he sees it. “He’s a couple months late,” he remarks dryly. 

Harry agrees but truthfully, he thinks Niall is right on time. 

-

Summer is a haze of relaxation, discovery, and pleasure. 

After spending a blissful Wednesday together filled with lots of touching and making out and fucking in the shower, Harry kissed Louis goodbye and then drove the two hours back to his family home. 

It only took him a week in Holmes Chapel to realize he didn’t want to spend the next couple of months without Louis. So, after two weeks with his family in which he probably gushed and sulked about Louis way too much, he drove back to London and straight to Louis and Zayn’s flat. 

Louis screamed when he opened the door and Harry picked him up and spun him around, already feeling a lot lighter with an angel in his arms. 

Zayn was surprisingly cool about letting Harry stay with them for the next month, while Niall and Liam and him looked for their own flat. He does inform them that he will be sleeping with earplugs for their convenience but he will kick Harry out if they ever fuck on the couch. 

Harry is honestly grateful for how accommodating Zayn is because now that Louis is his boyfriend, he wants to have him all the time. Gone are pre-planned sessions, Harry is free to propose another round as many times as he wants - and Louis can handle - in a day. 

In the morning when they’re both drowsy and languid and the sun is bathing Louis in gold like he’s an angel from above, in the shower half an hour later when the water is sliding down along Louis’ curves and Harry really can’t help himself (not that he tries), after dates where Louis makes it his personal mission to drive Harry absolutely insane, playing footsie under the table, sucking on straws, and licking crème brûlée off his fingers. 

And randomly in between when Harry’s just staring at Louis and thinking how lucky he is to have him, to hold him and kiss him and take care of him whenever he wants. Of course, when he gets those feelings, he feels the urge to show his boyfriend how much he cares by fucking his brains out. 

So much of their summer is spent between the sheets, wrapped in each other’s arms, but Harry isn’t complaining in the slightest. Time is counted by the sun, or the rise and fall of the sun’s light as it washes over Louis’ back as they lay in his bed. 

Time is counted in kisses and hugs and laughs and _greens._ In whimpers and gasps and grunts and moans. In movies and takeout and long car drives and bottles of wine and ballroom dancing in the kitchen and nights spent whispering to each other under the cover of darkness.

It’s counted in peaches. Now that he’s seen the inside of Louis’ shower, he knows it hails from both his organic shampoo and conditioner, but the effect has not lessened. The sweet fruit has become synonymous with the smell of contentment. 

They eat plenty of them too, fingers constantly stained with sweet nectar. Sometimes, Harry makes Louis suck the juice off his, watching the way his cheeks hollow with dark eyes. Other times, Harry licks it off Louis’ chest like they’re doing body shots but the only thing Harry is drunk on is Louis. 

It’s August tenth when he sits down with Niall and Liam in the living room of their future flat and tells them about his blog. They’re stunned of course, but ultimately supportive. Harry has a feeling they’ve looked it up too, but none of them will ever discuss what they found and he’d like to keep it that way. 

He makes a number of other decisions over the course of summer, emboldened by his newfound philosophy about giving things a chance. 

For one, he’s decided that he wants to get his Masters in Psychology. More specifically, he wants to get his Masters so he can eventually get his license as a certified psychologist to pursue sex therapy. 

Sex therapy is always something he’s considered pursuing but there’s always been that hesitation, a hesitation that has now completely gone away now that he’s stopped hiding his hobbies - and passions - from friends. Maybe also because now he’s got Louis encouraging him at every step of the way. 

As for Louis, he still has no idea what he’s doing after graduation. He’s got options of course, fashion or graphic design or as a last resort, business, but he doesn’t know what he wants to be- _who_ he wants to be. There’s plenty of time left though and Harry has faith they’ll figure it out together. 

“Harry.”

He turns confusedly, a smile curling onto his lips when he sees who’s behind the counter, grinning and rocking up onto his tiptoes with his hands clasped behind his back. Speaking of Louis… 

“Hey, baby,” he says, leaning over the barrier to kiss him hello. “What’re you doing here?” Uni officially starts back up again in a week and a half which means Harry’s back to working. It’s Saturday so it’s his double shift and as always, it’s been dragging. Well, until now. 

Louis scrunches his nose cutely, biting his lip. “Wanted to see you,” he says, shrugging. 

Harry grabs his hand and presses his lips to the back of it gently, admiring the soft blush it elicits. They’ve been dating for close to three months now but Louis still blushes as easily as always whenever Harry touches him. “I’m off in an hour, peach,” he says, amused. “I’m picking up takeout and coming to yours, remember?”

“Yeah, I know,” Louis huffs, intertwining his fingers. “I just got bored.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “You’re _just_ bored?”

“And I missed you,” Louis adds begrudgingly, pouting. “Don’t look so smug.”

“S’ just my face,” Harry rolls his eyes, tugging Louis forward with their linked hands to kiss him again. Thankfully, none of his coworkers are the type to call him out for PDA on the job but he does force himself to pull back before it gets too R-rated. 

“Do I get a boyfriend discount?” Louis asks, scanning the menu interestedly. 

“Nah,” says Harry, “but I’ve got you. Get whatever you want.”

Louis shoots him a soft smile, pleased. “Gentleman,” he says fondly. 

“Only for you,” Harry murmurs, trying in vain to quell his smile. Jess is sending him strange looks which he can’t blame her for. He doesn’t think he’s smiled this much while working _ever._ Louis has ruined his stoic reputation for good, it seems. 

He isn’t too upset about it. 

They talk a bit more before more people start trickling in and Harry actually has to do his job. He sends Louis off with a final kiss and a reminder for him to text Harry when he gets back to his flat safely. 

His heart aches when the door swings shut behind Louis and he loses sight of him through the transparent shop front. Maybe they’re a bit too dependent, especially when you take into consideration they woke up together that morning (and had morning sex- vanilla morning sex because everyone needs vanilla sometimes) and ate breakfast together and that they’re going to have dinner again and fall asleep in each other’s arms later on. 

Harry isn’t quite upset about that either. 

He’s never felt happier and more content than when he’s with Louis so of course he wants to spend as much time with him as possible. 

The rest of his shift passes slowly but eventually the clock ticks to six and he sighs out in relief, already excited to see his boyfriend and laze around his flat, eating takeout and watching a film.

He hums as he takes off his apron, calling out a friendly greeting as Sarah slips in behind the counter to take his spot for the next shift. 

“Ready for senior year?” she asks, tying her apron on carefully. 

Harry shrugs. “Ready for it to be over,” he jokes, bunching up the fabric in his hands and leaning up against the slab. 

She smiles, shaking her head as she moves behind the cash register. There won’t be too many customers this late in the evening so she’ll have an easy shift ahead of her. Harry isn’t bitter. “We’re in the home stretch, don’t lose faith now!”

“I know, I know,” Harry says, tipping his head back with a sigh. “I actually really like my classes this year too, so that’s something to look forward to.” 

“No more Econ!” Sarah jokes, pumping a fist in the air. 

Harry grins, shrugging. “Actually, I think I’ll kind of miss it,” he confesses, glancing at his phone when it buzzes. 

“Huh? I thought you hated Econ?” Sarah, having been the recipient of one too many rants from him about that class, looks understandably confused. 

“Ah, funny story,” he says distractedly, staring at a text message from Louis letting him know he got back to his flat safely with an admittedly dopey smile, “I’ve changed my mind.” 

And this time there’s only one reason why. 

-  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The dom blog name runner-ups: 
> 
> justletmedomyou  
> domsandromcoms  
> wholetthedomsout  
> peachmycream  
> domfiles  
> dirtydom  
> abitofmercy
> 
> These are from [Miles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smittenwithlouis/pseuds/smittenwithlouis), [Emma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma1234/pseuds/emma1234), Emily (again), and [Andy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outropeace/pseuds/outropeace)!! All coincidentally really talented fic writers too!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/falsegoodnight) | [tumblr](http://risthebrave.tumblr.com) | [fic post]()
> 
> Also, feel free to check out [clicktosubmit](https://clicktosubmit.tumblr.com) and potentially click to submit :)
> 
> Feel free to come say hi or tell me what you thought on any platform including [curious cat](https://curiouscat.qa/falsegoodnight) (or submit a word for a short drabble or snippet from me- the very first content from this fic came from cc prompts!)


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